


Unexpected Variables

by evil_step_sister



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Supernatural
Genre: Adopted Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Daddy Dean Winchester, Family, Gen, Harry Winchester, Hunter Harry, Manipulative Dumbledore, Smart Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2016-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 11:44:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 50,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1185848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evil_step_sister/pseuds/evil_step_sister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the Potter family was attacked, the Wizarding World mourned their death and celebrated the defeat of the Dark Lord for weeks to come. But people would be left puzzling over the disappearance of the youngest Potter for years. It's too bad nobody thought to include the Winchesters into their equations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Finding Harry - Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Spoilers up to Supernatural episode 619 “Mommy Dearest” and some of season 8, and for all Harry Potter books
> 
> AN:  
> Changes for HP canon - James and Lily moved to America to hide instead of staying in England for greater safety. 
> 
> Changes for SPN canon – Castiel never made a deal with Crowley. Therefore, Civil War in heaven much smaller and completely AU after the killing of Eve. 
> 
> Timeline Notes – Since the actual date is unknown, going with the idea that Eve was killed at the end of September 2011. The dates for Harry Potter have been altered drastically. Harry was born in 2010 in this story instead of 1980. Potters were attacked on Oct. 31, 2011 and that is when our story starts.

Dean and Sam were, as per usual, driving cross country in Dean’s ’67 Chevy Impala, fondly referred to as Baby, with Dean’s classic rock music blaring from the speakers and Sam trying in vain to tune it and Dean’s off-key singing out. It was getting quite late and they were searching the smallish town they found themselves in for a cheap motel to stay for the night.

They were heading toward Bobby’s house in Sioux Falls for a visit and hopefully a bit of a break from cases. After finally defeating Eve almost five weeks ago, the Winchesters had been traveling around, going after cases that seemed to be caused by leftover creations of the Mother of All. The brothers had just finished one where a small group of three Jefferson Starships – Sam mentally rolled his eyes at the name – had been stirring up trouble.

Sam sighed in relief as a motel finally came into view, when from off to the side, he saw a bright flash light up the night sky followed quickly by a large explosion of sound. Dean cursed and jerked the wheel to the side in surprise. He quickly pulled over and looked for where the explosion came from. After sharing a look with his brother, he turned the car around and headed toward the area.

It turned out to be a quaint housing area. Driving down the streets they could see children and their parents going from door to door, dressed in their Halloween costumes, begging for candy. It struck them as odd though. Nobody around was showing any interest in the fact that a house a few blocks away had just blown apart.

They finally found the source of the explosion on a dead end street with no other houses around it. They drove up to it slowly and looking around, saw no one else. No fire department, no police, no nosy neighbors, and no sirens signaling that they were on their way.

The Winchesters got out of the car and studied the house. Oddly enough, it wasn't on fire; just looked like a wrecking ball had been dropped through the roof. Sam started walking towards the front door when Dean put a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Wait.” He had his head cocked slightly, like he was listening. “Do you hear that?”

Sam listened as well, but heard nothing. Suddenly Dean took off running to the door, pulling his gun on the way. He slammed it open and continued inside. Sam readied his own gun and followed quickly, just in time to see his brother taking the stairs to the next floor. Now that he was closer, Sam could make out the sound of a baby crying from upstairs. He made to follow again, but stopped at the foot of the stairs, staring at the ground. He could just see the shape of a man lying on the floor.

He bent down next to the guy cautiously and felt for a pulse, finding none. Letting his brother take upstairs, Sam began slowly moving around the bottom floor of the house, searching for whatever could have done this. Finding nothing, he made his way back to the stairs in time to see Dean coming back down with what he assumed was the child in his arms.

“Find anything?” he asked.

Dean shook his head in response. “Nothing that could have done this. Found this guy though. He was in his crib. There was a body of a woman lying in front of it. Guessing it was his mother trying to keep whatever it was away from him. She didn't have any kind of weapon, but she did have this in her hand.” He held out what looked like a polished wooden stick. “Don’t know what she was planning to do with it.”

Sam looked at it before going back to the man’s body. Sure enough, he was holding a piece of wood tightly in his right hand. Sam picked it up and showed it to the elder. “I think it was supposed to do something. He had one as well.”

“Huh. Whatever it was, it didn't work.” Dean looked around and saw a light switch on the wall. Turning it on, he took a closer look at the scene while still trying to calm the little boy down.

Sam brought out the EMF detector and started scanning it around. Finding nothing he headed up the stairs to the nursery. Walking in he found the dead woman on the floor like Dean had said. Looking up he found most of the roof had been blown off by something, along with some of the far wall. He scanned the area quickly, once more finding nothing, and headed back down the stairs.

Dean was slowly rocking the now sniffling child while studying the wall. Seeing his brother he pointed to a series of scorch marks on both sides of the hallway. “See these?” he asked quietly. “It’s like someone lit some firecrackers and set them loose in the hallway. There are more down at the end by the front door.” Sam nodded and after another quick look around they headed back outside.

“We should call the cops. Don’t know why anyone hasn't yet.”

Dean handed over the now sleeping boy and pulled out his phone. “Yeah, I need to report an incident.” Sam heard him say when someone answered. “There was an explosion at a house. I think someone was caught in it.” As his older brother talked, Sam went back to the car and sat in the passenger’s seat with the infant in his lap, still asleep. “Yeah, it’s 2096 Sidewind Ct… No this isn't a Halloween joke!... What do you mean? I’m standing right in front of it!... I’m telling you this isn't a joke!... No wait – Son of a bitch!” Dean looked angrily at his phone before stuffing it in his pocket and making his way over.

“What happened?” Sam asked after he got in the driver’s side.

“Damn operator thought I was lying. When I told him the address, he said there was no house here and wouldn’t let me get a word in to say otherwise. Then he said if I called back he’d have me arrested and hung up on me! What the hell?!”

“Well, what are we gonna do with the kid?”

“Since the cops aren't coming here, we’ll head to the station and hand him over. They can deal with him.” He started the car and drove to do just that.

* * *

 

“What the hell is wrong with these people?!” Dean exclaimed later that night. They had just been to the station and the cop in front had reacted just as the emergency operator had. They had walked in and said they had found the child in a destroyed house. The policewoman had then taken the child and asked where the location was in order to send someone to check the place out. After telling her the address, she had gained a strange look on her face and shoved the boy back into Dean’s arms, saying there was no house or family living there and wouldn't hear otherwise or take the kid back. After once again getting threatened with arrest if he didn't leave, the brothers had gone back to the Impala.

Deciding to keep the boy with them for now and figure out what to do later, they started back to the motel they found earlier.


	2. Finding Harry - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

When they got to the motel and checked out a room, they put the sleeping child on one of the beds before calling Bobby up. After telling him about the house and the police’s reaction to it they described the two sticks and burn marks and asked if he knew anything about it. To their disappointment he couldn’t think of anything in particular, and said he would look for something before ending the call.

Moments later there was the faint sound of wings and then Castiel was standing in the middle of the room. 

“Cas!” Dean moved forward to greet him. “Bout time you showed up. Been ages since you last popped in.”

“Hello Dean. Sam. Things have finally calmed somewhat in heaven so I felt I could come down to give you two an update on the situation.”

“That’s great!” said Sam from his place at the small table.

“Yes. It seems without the influence of Michael or threat of Lucifer, Raphael is less inclined to restart the apocalypse. There is still much fighting, however, so I cannot remain long.” Castiel paused at a slight whimpering sound from the bed. Dean went over and picked up the boy, who was starting to wake. “Dean, why is there a child with you?”

The brothers once more told the story. “We didn’t know what else to do with him, so we brought him with us. So, know why he apparently doesn’t exist?”

Castiel was examining the sticks given to him by Sam. “Yes. These are not mere pieces of polished wood. They hold the essence of a supernatural creature and are referred to as wands.”

Both brothers looked dumbfounded. “Wands. As in actual magic wands?” questioned Sam. 

“Yes.”

Dean snorted. “Since when do witches use wands? I thought they were all about rituals and hex bags?”

“These are not used by the witches you are familiar with, Dean. They are a group of humans that are naturally born with the ability to manipulate the energy of the Earth, which they call magic. The ones you hunt do not have this power and must make deals with demons to gain it.”

The elder Winchester looked skeptical. “So you’re saying they’re not evil?”

“No. They are as evil as any other human. That is to say, depending on their choices, they have the potential for great evil, but an equal potential for great good.”

“So why have we never heard of them before?” Sam this time, as always looking for more knowledge to soak up.

“They are generally not found in America, but they have large societies spread throughout Europe and Asia. They have their own government, education system, currency, and culture completely separate from what you know, kept very well hidden from the normal populace.”

“This is insane,” sighed Dean, looking at the child in his arms that had been studying the room’s occupants quietly. “If the kid’s parents were these non-evil witches –“

“Only the females are referred to as witches. The males are called wizards.”

“Course they are.” Dean shook his head. “Whatever. If the parents could use magic, does that mean he can, too?”

All three looked at the boy, who smiled and clapped at the attention. “More than likely. Though it has been known for a non-magical child to be born to a magical family. If you wish, I could check and tell you for sure.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Cas stepped forward and Dean moved the boy around in his arms so he was facing the angel. For awhile the man just stared at the infant before his brows furrowed slightly. He reached out a hand and laid it lightly on the kid’s forehead and closed his eyes. A few moments passed before Castiel reopened his eyes and turned to Dean, looking troubled. 

“What? Something wrong with him?”

“I’m not sure. He is indeed magical, but there is something tainting him.”

Sam stood up and joined them by the bed. “What do you mean? Like a disease?”

“No. This cut on his head,” Cas touched it lightly before quickly bringing his hand back again. “It was made by a dark curse. One meant to kill instantly. Why the boy survived, I do not know. The curse itself does not seem to have affected him in any way besides the mark, but under the cut is where I can sense the taint. It is not a part of the boy and does not seem to be troubling or influencing him at the moment. However, it is indeed evil and I cannot tell exactly what it is or how it could manifest in the future.”

Both Winchesters looked worried at this and Dean shifted his hold on the boy. “Is there anything we could do to keep it that way? Or better yet, get it out of him?”

Castiel hesitated. “I believe I could remove it…”

“But…” Dean encouraged.

The angel sighed, “I’m not sure what effect it would have on the boy.” He admitted. “To have one so young in contact with the amount of grace required to perform the extraction… it may be too much for his body and mind to handle. I could not say what kind of psychological or physical effects it would have. There is even the possibility that the shock of it could cause his death, but it is small.” He stopped and gained a thoughtful look on his face. “Although, the presence of his magic should work in his favor by lessening the reaction to my grace. With it, I believe there should be no fear of death.”

Sam rubbed a hand through his hair and looked over at his older brother. He knew Dean was going to have a hard time with this decision. No matter how much of a hard ass he acted on the outside, Dean always had a soft spot for children and magic or not, the little boy in his brother’s arms was already growing on them both. They watched for a moment as the boy laughed while trying to grab hold of the stoic angel’s tie. 

“Alright.” Dean finally said quietly. “Let’s do it. Better to have the evil out of him and deal with the consequences than wait and see if it gets worse.” Sam nodded slowly in agreement. 

After getting everything prepared, including drawing a devil’s trap around the kid incase whatever came out of him decided to get revenge, the two brothers stood at the edge of the room as Castiel approached the child. Cas kneeled on the floor in front of him and once more put his hand on the boy’s head and closed his eyes. Nothing seemed to happen until the boy’s face scrunched up unhappily. He then started to cry, getting louder and louder as the moments passed. A white light began to form between the angel’s hand and the boy, then Cas slowly began pulling his hand back, the light stretching between them. It seemed to waver for a couple seconds, then broke away from the infant and gathered around Cas’s hand. The angel opened his eyes and stood, studying it in a mixture of fascination and disgust. 

Dean quickly went to the boy, who was still on the floor crying loudly, and picked him up followed by Sam just as fast. They both turned to Castiel and looked closer at the light in his hand, which was difficult with it being so bright. They were just able to make out a darker area in the middle of it which was moving in circles around the inside, like an animal circling its cage. 

“What is it?” Sam was the first to ask. 

“A soul.” Cas replied shortly.

“Soul?!” the elder Winchester exclaimed in shock, with the younger looking just as surprised. 

“A piece of one more accurately.”

“How is that possible?” Sam stepped forward for a better look, while Dean stepped back and held the boy in a more protective grip. 

“I do not know the specifics, but it is part of a very dark ritual developed by the magic users. An attempt to gain immortality that is used by only the most desperate. I have not heard of an instance of it in many years and have never witnessed the result of it myself. I must say, I wish I never had. It is disgusting; an abomination. It should never have been created.” With that, the angel began closing his fist, the light diminishing and the soul trapped inside moving faster in seeming desperation to get out. When the fist closed completely, a quiet, shrill scream was heard and both brothers shuddered, while the child finally stopped his crying, sniffling and laying his head on Dean’s shoulder.  
Dean absently pat his back and turned to Castiel. “What about him? Can you tell if anything happened to him?”

The angel returned his attention to the infant, who looked up at his approach. Once more, the hand was put on his head, but after a short moment it was removed and Cas shook his head. “I cannot find anything out of the ordinary, though his eyes seemed to have been healed from their previous imperfections. He will no longer need glasses in the future. Now, I have remained –“ Cas had turned his back to them and began walking away, but froze before spinning back around, with a look of pure shock painted on his face, and focusing on the child. More specifically his fist, which he was happily waving in the air. 

The Winchesters watched with confusion as Castiel returned and gently grabbed the tiny hand, slowly unfolding the curled fingers. As soon as he did the boy began to fuss, looking off to the left of the angel and reaching out with both hands as if trying to grasp something out of reach. 

“Cas?” Dean questioned softly.

“My… my wings. He had… grabbed the feathers of my wings.” The angel answered slowly, seeming still in shock. “It seems he can… see through my vessel. To my true form. I believe we have found the effect of my grace.” He stood still a few moments longer, watching the child who was now moving his head up and down, side to side as if following something. “I must go. I have been long enough from heaven. Call to me if the child reveals anything more.” 

With that and a soft sound of wings, Cas was gone. In Dean’s arms, the boy giggled and clapped his hands together happily. 

It was silent except for the child’s babbles for a few minutes before Sam once more asked the obvious question, “What now?”

The elder sighed and switched the boy to his other hip. “Well, if the kid’s magical and showing random supernatural abilities, we obviously can’t just drop him off at an orphanage. We’ll keep him with us for now. At least till we know what all he can do ‘cause of Cas’s grace. Maybe take him to Bobby’s; more protection there.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I guess. If we’re keeping him though, we’ll need to know more about what to expect. That means research.”

Dean snorted. “Raised you didn’t I? Think I know what to expect from a baby. You go ahead and do your research though.”

Sam gave him a look. “I’m talking about his magic, Dean. I don’t need to research how to take care of a kid.”

“Yeah?” Dean smirked at him, “Bet you wouldn’t last a day alone with him.”

“Whatever. Jerk.”

“Bitch.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Anyway, maybe we should go back to the house. You know, look around. See if we can find books or something that’ll tell us what he’s capable of.”

“Good idea. We’ll wait till morning though. Doubt anybody’s gonna show up at the house tonight, seeing as the police don’t even know it’s there, and it’s already past midnight. After we fish around for info we’ll head back to Bobby’s and figure out what to do from there.” 

Sam nodded and headed outside to call Bobby and tell him about the new developments while Dean attempted to get the infant to sleep.


	3. Finding Harry - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

The next morning dawn bright and very early for the two Winchester brothers as the screaming of a baby woke them abruptly. Dean automatically sat up and picked up the boy from where he was previously sleeping on the bed beside him, while Sam pulled his blanket over his head and groaned. Dean laughed at him while trying to calm the crying infant.

After a couple minutes, Dean threw a pillow at his younger brother. “Hey! Make yourself useful and go to the store and get some stuff for him.”

Sam sat up and glared at him. “Like what?”

“Grab a pen and make a list.”

“A list? How much stuff could you need?”

“Diapers, wipes, milk, bottles – “

“Alright, fine! Let me find some paper. Why didn’t you stop to get this crap yesterday?”

“Wasn’t planning on having a kid by the end of the night, was I? And what store do you know is open near midnight. Well, that would sell baby stuff anyway.”

Sam finally found something to write with and sat at the table. “What is it we need?”

As Dean rattled off a list he was moving around the room, trying to find something that could work as a temporary diaper till Sam got back from the store.

Sam read the list back to him once finished and Dean nodded in approval. “I think that’s good for now. Hopefully we’ll find some stuff we can use in the house when we go back to it.” With that, Sam put on some mostly-clean clothes and headed out to the store.

When Sam returned, he snorted a laugh at the sight of his brother entertaining the boy, who was sitting in the middle of Dean’s bed with one of the motel’s hand towels wrapped around his bottom in a poor excuse for a diaper.

“Finally!” Dean exclaimed. “Little monster’s been fussy as hell. Needs something to eat.”

“Well, I got what you wanted.” Sam said, as he started taking out items. Dean walked over and grabbed a diaper while Sam disappeared into the bathroom to shower.

After the boy had been fed and the brothers had gathered all their things, they stuck it all in the car and drove off to the destroyed house.

As they arrived, they immediately noticed that something was different. Since there was no crime scene tape or cops hanging around investigating the murder of the couple, it was obvious they still thought the property was just an empty lot. However, it was also obvious someone else had been there the previous night. In front of the path leading to the door, someone had placed a sign with a plaque that read:

_On this spot, on the night of 31 October 2011,_

_Lily and James Potter lost their lives._

_Their son, Harry, has been lost to us_

_and we can only hope he is safe._

_This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left_

_in its ruined state as a monument to the Potters_

_and as a reminder of the violence_

_that tore apart their family._

“So, your name’s Harry Potter, huh?” Dean questioned the boy. Harry just looked at him in response.

“Whoever came and set this up did it quickly. Probably just missed us last night would be my guess,” said Sam, looking at the sign as well. “Wonder if it was more magic users? They seem to know how the Potters were killed.”

“Yeah. Says the house is invisible to… _muggles_. Think that’s why the police didn’t respond?”

“Probably. Let’s go check it out. Hopefully there’s still things we can use inside.”

It turned out that the house had been left completely untouched, except for the removal of the two bodies. Harry seemed to recognize the place as home and was squirming in Dean’s arms to be put down so he could walk. Dean complied and followed him into the living room, where he started looking around for anything useful. Sam went straight to the bookshelf on one wall and immediately pulled down a couple and flipped through them. Dean smiled at that, then turned away to keep an eye on Harry.

A couple hours later they had collected a nice pile of things, the majority of which was made up of most of the books from the three bookshelves found throughout the house. From the kitchen they had gathered Harry’s supplies - bottles, training cups, snack foods and such. Though most of the nursery was destroyed, they thankfully managed to salvage Harry’s clothes from the nearly untouched dresser and a couple of his toys, including a stuffed black dog that made Harry babble happily at the sight of it. The boy quickly hugged the plushie and to the brothers’ surprise, the toy stood up and ran a circle around the laughing baby, barking and wagging its tail, before returning to its seated position in front of him. Another surprise came when Harry grabbed a small, child-sized broom from near the back door and sat on it, only for it to start floating and slowly move around the room. Dean had gotten a laugh out of that; apparently some of the fairy tale stereotypes were true. The last things added to the pile were a few obviously magical items Sam wanted to mess with and a few pictures of Harry and his parents that Dean found around the house for the boy when he got older. Oh, did he mention that they _freakin’ moved!_

While looking through what appeared to be a study, Dean had found a cabinet filled with various legal papers. Included in those was a copy of Harry’s birth certificate. Apparently, his full name was Harry James Potter and he was born on July 31, 2010. In a place called _St. Mungo’s_. He guessed it was a magical hospital and wondered if all magical places had odd names.

All of these things were put in a trunk Sam had found in one of the guest bedrooms that had the initials J.P. on the side. It looked pretty old and worn and had obviously belonged to Harry’s father, but when the younger Winchester had opened it, he had found out that it was much bigger on the inside than it appeared and was perfect to carry all the stuff in. Especially since, after everything was stored away, the trunk hadn’t gotten any heavier with all the extra items. Yes, the Winchesters were starting to realize that having magic had its perks.

Once the trunk was loaded into the backseat of the Impala, the brothers finally continued their journey to Sioux Falls, with a small addition sitting on Sam’s lap, black dog clutched to his chest, and sadly waving goodbye to his old home.

* * *

 

On the night of October 31, as an old model car was driving around the corner on its way to the police station, there was a loud crack of displaced air, followed by a horrified yell from the man who had appeared out of nowhere to the sight of the destroyed house of his closest friends.

Despite his shock and flash of panic, Sirius Black quickly gathered himself and pulled his wand, hurrying through the doorway. He stopped and gave a sob at the sight of James, his best friend, lying lifeless at the foot of the stairwell. With quickly disappearing hope he head up to the next floor and into the nursery, only to feel another wave of grief at seeing beautiful Lily spread on the floor in front of little Harry’s crib.

Crying openly now he made his way over to check on the child. If the sight of his two best friends, cold and unmoving, had grieved him so, it was the realization that his precious godson was nowhere to been seen that broke him.

When Professor Albus Dumbledore arrived at the previously hidden Potter home not too long after, it was to find Sirius kneeling on the floor of a destroyed nursery, next to the body of Lily Potter, facing an empty child’s crib. He was perfectly still, not crying, not even blinking - seeming as lifeless as the woman next to him, with his wand lying forgotten on the floor.

Albus quickly approached him and tried to talk to him, snap him out of his grieved stupor. It wasn’t until he mentioned one Peter Pettigrew and how he needed to be found and brought to justice that he showed signs of life. A wild, murderous light grew in his eyes, and quick as a flash, his wand was snatched up and he was out the door. Albus called out to him, trying to stop him and warning him against doing anything rash, but his words were unheeded. As soon as he passed the wards, Sirius Black disappeared with a pop to go hunting for a rat.

Albus sighed in irritation, but didn’t bother to go after the grief crazed man. After a time studying the residue magic in the area, he determined that the Dark Lord had fired the killing curse at the young boy, who had somehow survived it. Instead it had backfired and destroyed the castor, but Albus knew Voldemort was not truly gone. He had to find the youngest Potter and fast. Harry was the only hope for the Wizarding World’s future and had to be properly prepared to face his destiny.

However, even with all his knowledge and planning, Albus was never able to figure out where the boy had disappeared to. Too bad he never thought of simply checking with the local muggle police. After all, it had to have been a wizard to have taken the child. No simple muggle could have gotten past the wards he, himself had set up and into the house. Right?

Unfortunately for him, he never factored the Winchesters into his plans.


	4. Finding Harry - Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

When the Impala finally pulled up to Bobby’s, both brothers quickly got out and breathed a sigh of relief. Spending hours in a car with a one year old that was missing his parents was not something they felt like repeating anytime soon. Almost as soon as they drove out of sight of the house, Harry had started realizing that he was leaving the place his Mummy and Daddy were supposed to be and was with two people he barely knew. It was heartbreaking for the brothers to hear him start asking for his parents, getting more insistent and upset when they never showed up. By the end of the drive he had cried himself to sleep, still clutching the stuffed black dog closely to chest.

The movement from exiting the car jostled the boy awake. “Mama?” was the first thing out of his mouth. Sam quickly handed him over to Dean as he saw Harry start to get teary eyed once more.

Dean sighed again and gently pat the child on the back as he made his way to the front porch of Bobby’s old house. “No, little man. Your Mama’s not here.” Once he reached the door, Bobby opened it and let them all inside.

“So, that’s the kid?”

“Yeah. His name’s Harry. Harry, can you say ‘hi’ to Bobby?”

Harry watched the grumpy looking man for a moment, before he turned around and put his face in Dean’s shoulder. The brothers chuckled while Bobby just grunted.

“Well, come sit down. Y’all eaten yet?”

* * *

 

As the days and weeks passed, Harry gradually became more used to his new home and guardians. He realized his parents weren’t coming back anytime soon and asked about them less often.

It came as no surprise to any of them when Dean ended up being Harry’s primary caretaker. The boy warmed up to Bobby soon enough and though he wouldn’t admit it, the man enjoyed having a kid around once more. However, as soon as Harry showed signs of starting the waterworks, Bobby would suddenly have something extremely important to do and disappear for a couple hours.

Sam on the other hand genuinely wanted to help his brother with Harry’s care. Problem was, he didn’t know how. So, Dean showed his brother how to properly feed, change, and bath the boy. Sam eventually got the hang of it and often took care of Harry to give his brother a break, but he still sometimes got frustrated during Harry’s tantrums or when he was being stubborn, so he left that part to Dean. The younger Winchester suddenly understood what Dean must have gone through with him while growing up and felt guilty for all the hard times he gave him, while gaining a new respect for his brother.

The books brought from Harry’s old house were put to good use. Both Sam and Bobby dug into them immediately, trying to learn as much about this new world as possible in order to prepare themselves for when Harry became older. Dean, though, got a headache just looking at the stacks of books. So while his little brother and Bobby geeked out over the new information, Dean just focused on Harry and left them to it, knowing if they came across anything important they would tell him.

Which was how he learned about accidental magic and that when Harry got a bit older, he should start showing bursts of it. It wasn’t something they were looking forward to, that’s for sure. Who knows what the little monster would make happen? Well, as long as Baby was left out of it, Dean decided it wouldn’t be too bad.

Shortly after that he learned about the magical schools. Apparently, Harry was going to be expected to attend one called Hogwarts - Really? Who names a school _Hogwarts_? – when he turned eleven. Another thing he wasn’t much looking forward to.

Wait - when did they decide Harry was staying till he was eleven? He’s not even two yet! For all they knew someone from the Wizarding World could show up tomorrow to take him someplace better for him to grow up. After all, they were hunters. Their life style was dangerous and not something a child should grow up in. It would be better if someone more suited to caring for Harry came to them and took him off their hands.

Well, that was what they told themselves. But just the thought of it set off a nasty feeling in Dean’s gut.

Sam and Dean certainly got their break from cases after returning to Bobby’s with Harry. For the first few weeks they didn’t even contemplate taking one. After it was apparent that Harry was settling in well to his new environment, they began taking short, easy, solo ones every couple weeks to slowly get the boy used to having them occasionally disappear for a while. It was, surprisingly, Bobby who suggested they do it this way, knowing how the boys had reacted themselves to John disappearing for days on end with no warning. Dean had quickly voiced his support for the idea and to their satisfaction it worked well.

On Harry’s second birthday, he ended up surprising Dean by hugging him after opening his presents and exclaiming loudly “Thank you, Daddy!”

At the look on his face both Bobby and Sam burst out laughing. Apparently, they had been trying to get the boy to call him that for awhile now. In retaliation Dean managed to convince him to call Bobby “Grandpa” and Sam “Mama”. Sam managed to squash the Mama thing surprisingly quickly, but to Bobby’s reluctance and Dean’s not-so-secret enjoyment, the Grandpa and Daddy names stuck. The younger Winchester just returned to being Harry’s Sammy.

Castiel also made fairly regular visits during this time. Each time brought the news that the Civil War was slowly - very slowly - coming to a tension filled standstill. The angel said he expected it to be many years yet before the fighting completely stopped and there was peace once more, but that each day showed they were coming closer to that goal.

Harry seemed to greatly enjoy these visits as well. Probably for the sole reason that he was allowed to mess with the angel’s “pretty wings.” Castiel didn’t seem to mind this over much. Each time the boy ran up to him to pet his feathers, he seemed surprised and fascinated all over again by the fact Harry was able to see and touch them.

Despite Castiel’s assumption that Harry would show more effects of his contact with the angel’s grace, the brothers hadn’t seen any sign of Harry being able to do more. Though, the boy hadn’t been far from Bobby’s house, so there hadn’t been much opportunity for experimentation with it. Sam suggested that Harry’s ability to learn and remember things quickly could be an effect and Castiel agreed it could be, but that there was also a possibility Harry was just born with that talent.

It wasn’t until Harry was two-and-a-half that things once more took a turn for the dramatic. But that’s only to be expected when you live with the Winchesters.


	5. As Time Goes By - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

“Harry!” Dean called out. He was searching around Bobby’s house for where the runt had gone off to. Dean had left him with Sam while he was working on his baby, but now neither were anywhere to be seen. Bobby was currently out of the house, most likely at Sheriff Mill’s. He’d been going by there more often and the brothers were pretty sure there was a thing going on between the two. Bobby denied it of course, but it didn’t stop the Winchesters from poking a little fun at him for it.

Dean finally located the two in the second guest bedroom/storage space where Sam, and occasionally Harry, slept. Harry was sitting on the younger brother’s lap while he searched on the computer for possible cases in the area.

“There y’all are. Thought you said you were taking him out front to ride on that stick of his.”

Sam looked up from his laptop. “We did, but he got bored of it and started trying to fly off into the salvage yard, so I brought him back inside.”

Dean nodded, “Find anything that looks like us?”

“Nothing. Unless you count a guy –“

Sam was cut off by a loud bang as the door to the closet flew open and hit the wall. Shortly after, a man tumbled through the doorway and landed on the floor. The Winchesters reacted immediately. Sam stood up, holding tight to Harry as the boy looked around in confusion, and went straight to the gun lying on his bedside table. Angling his body so he could better protect Harry if attacked, he readied the weapon in his hand as his older brother pulled his own.

The unknown man quickly got up off the floor. “Which of you is John Winchester?” he asked urgently. The other two just stared at him in surprised confusion. “Please, time is of the essence. Which of you is John Winchester?”

Sam snapped out of it first, “Uh, neither.”

The man looked upset by this answer. “That’s impossible. That’s absolutely… What did I do wrong?”

“Who the hell are you, mister?” Dean demanded, wanting some answers.

“Not now. I’m thinking.”

This obviously wasn’t what Dean wanted to hear. He moved forward and grabbed the man, pinning him to the wall with his arm. Harry made a small sound at this and the man’s eyes flickered to him before quickly returning to the one holding him.

“Please. I can assure you, there’s no need for violence. One of you must know John Winchester,” the man tried again.

Sam tightened his grip on Harry and glared at him, “I’ll tell you what. When one of us falls out of your closet, then you can ask the questions.”

The guy seemed to figure out he wasn’t going to get what he wanted. “Yes. My apologies.” He looked pointedly at the arm across his chest. “Is it absolutely essential, sir, that you keep your hands on me?”

Dean glanced back at Sam and Harry, then gave the man a warning look before letting him drop down. The man caught himself and smoothed out his suit.

“Thank you.” He straightened up, as if gathering courage. “Gentlemen, in the absence of any and all other explanations, I’m afraid this has been a marvelous, tragic misunderstanding. I’ll be on my way.”

He took a step as if to go out into the hallway, but Dean moved forward and blocked his path. “That’s not happening.” Then he snatched a pair of handcuffs from Sam’s travel duffel.

Sam, after putting Harry down in a corner of the room and making sure he knew to stay out of sight, went to the others and grabbed the man from behind.

“You’re not going anywhere, 007, till we get some answers,” Dean stated and moved to handcuff the guy to the lone chair in the room. In a quick, smooth motion, the man slipped from Sam’s hold and out from in between the brothers. He then managed to put the cuffs on both Winchesters and hook it to the chair before darting out the room.

They both looked after him in disbelief. “How did he do that? You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Dean pulled at the cuff a bit, then called out, “Harry!” The little boy hurried over. “Grab Sam’s bag from over there. See it? The one by the door. Can you bring it here?”

The boy nodded and grabbed the heavy duffel, then struggled to drag it across the floor within reach of the brothers. Once he did, Sam fished out his lock pick and made quick work of the cuffs. As soon as he was free, Dean pulled his gun once more and ran after the intruder.

A short time later, Sam heard the front door open and a muffled “sit down” from what he guessed was the living room. Not wanting to leave Harry alone in the room, he reluctantly picked him up and went down the stairs to join his brother.

They arrived in time to hear a hiss coming from the man, who was seated in the middle of the room in a chair from the kitchen, as Dean made a cut on his forearm with a silver knife.

Sam again settled Harry in a corner of the room, partially hidden by the sofa, and tossed his brother a flask of holy water. The boy remained quiet and only watched the proceedings with curious eyes. Dean splashed the man in the face with the flask’s contents.

“And there with the holy water,” he laughed.

“He’s clean,” Dean announced.

“I could have told you that,” the man muttered as he pulled down his sleeve over the cut.

“Yeah, well, you can start by telling us everything before I beat it out of you.”

The man sent him an unimpressed look, “I'm quite certain this is all beyond your understanding, my alpha-male-monkey friend. And violence will not help you comprehend this any easier.”

The elder brother glared at him and grabbed him by his jacket, pointing his gun in his face. “Let me tell you what I understand! Some asshat pops out of my closet asking about my dad and smashes up my ride! So why am I not getting violent, again?”

The man’s face changed into one of shock, “John Winchester is your father?”

Before the brothers have a chance to respond, a loud rattling sound came from upstairs. The man stood up, looking at the ceiling. “What is that?” he questioned, before a look of horrified realization crossed his features. “Oh no.”

“What?” Sam demanded. A bang, louder than the one from when the man appeared, is heard, followed by the sound of heels clicking along the wooden floor.

“Run!” but despite his own words, the man merely stayed frozen and followed the sound of the footsteps with fearful eyes until a woman was seen at the top of the stairs.

“Henry,” the woman laughed and made her way down the steps. “Silly man, you forgot to lock the door. But then, spells never were your best subject, were they? Why don't you be a doll and give me what I want, and I promise to kill you and your friends here quickly.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“You’re not a fighter, Henry.”

As she made it to the bottom, Harry peeked out from his spot behind the couch. With one look at the woman he began crying loudly, covering his eyes and trying to push himself further into the wall, screaming out, “No no! Bad! NO!”

Dean raised his gun and Sam moved toward Harry, but the woman waved her arm and both were sent flying into the side wall, causing Harry to cry even louder. Henry tried to move, but was sent flying also, the woman keeping her hand raised and him pinned to the far wall.

He watched her approach him from his stuck position. “Josie, I know you're still in there. You must fight this,” he said desperately.

The woman only laughed. “I'm afraid Josie's indisposed, pet. It looks like it's just you and me.”

As she got close to him, Dean came up behind her and stabbed her in the back with the demon blade. Her eyes widened in shock and she dropped to her knees. Light began flashing from within her as she curled in on herself and screamed in pain. But the light slowly diminished and the brothers stared at her in shock.

Breathing heavily, she glared hatefully at Dean. “Well, that is no way to treat a lady.”

While she was down, Sam grabbed Henry by the arm and pulled him outside to the Impala. Dean picked up a still crying Harry, only a step behind them. Putting Harry in the back with Sam, Dean jumped in the driver’s seat and slammed on the gas, leaving the property just as the demon emerged from the house.


	6. As Time Goes By - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

Dean drove until they were well out of the small town. Harry had stopped crying shortly after leaving the demon behind, but was still clinging to Sam in the backseat, face buried in his shoulder and sniffling occasionally.

“Alright, Bobby. We’ll call later when we learn more.” Dean ended the call to Bobby after filling him in. The old hunter had been less than pleased to learn he had to avoid his house till they were sure the demon was no longer there. He, of course, understood though and assured he’d stay low until it was over or they needed backup.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, Dean frowned a bit at the sight of the young boy. What had made him react so harshly to the sight of the demon? Harry had good reason to be frightened of her, but to have recognized that danger so quickly? He would have to discuss this with Sam later and maybe Cas if he showed up. Dean turned his attention back to the road for a moment, then flicked his eyes toward the man sitting in the passenger seat. Henry had his eyes closed tightly, face pale and sweating, and had a death hold on the door handle. The older hunter quickly pulled to the side of the road. No way was he letting the man be sick in his baby.

Henry opened the door as soon as the car stopped, took a few steps away, and promptly lost the contents of his stomach. Sam and Dean followed him out. Harry looked up at the movement and reached out to Dean when he caught sight of him. The elder brother took him and the boy again put his head down, arms tightly wound around Dean’s neck.

Sam stepped closer to Henry. “Are you okay?” he asked, slightly concerned.

“Yes, I will be,” he answered and vomited once more. Standing up, he wiped his mouth with a handkerchief from his pocket. “It’s just that all the adventures I enjoy are usually of the literary nature.”

Dean spoke up from where he was patting Harry on the back, who seemed to be falling asleep. “Yeah, well, now that you're done blowing chucks, you wanna tell us who Betty Crocker was?”

“Abaddon. She’s a demon.”

Sam rolled his eyes, “No kidding. Where’s she from?”

“Where’d you come from?” Dean adds.

Henry looks slightly reluctant, but answers anyway, “She’s from hell. I’m from Normal, Illinois. 1958.”

Sam looked surprised and Dean let out a laugh. He quieted though, when Harry stirred.

“Yeah, right.” Dean looked between his brother, who was watching the other man as though he were a puzzle, and Henry, who stared silently back. “Seriously?” he asked, almost whined.  
“Dudes time traveling through bedroom closets? That’s what we’ve come to?”

Henry gave an exasperated sigh, “If you could just take me to John, we could clear this all up, I’m sure.”

Dean went back to glaring at the man, “I’ve told you, that’s not gonna happen.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s dead!” Dean stated bluntly, having finally lost his patience.

There was a long silence after this, Henry looking deeply affected by the news.

“No.” He turned away from the brothers with a hand over his mouth.

Sam shot a worried look towards Dean. “What’s it to you?”

The man was quiet for a moment. “Everything.” He turned back to them. “I’m his father.”

Both brothers were silent, shock coursing through them and freezing them in place.

“Well, shit.” Dean moved back toward the Impala, tossing Sam the keys and getting in the passenger seat.

* * *

 

It was a couple hours later that they stopped at a small town diner for lunch. The Winchesters were standing at the counter, waiting for their food to come. Harry was now awake and standing between them, one hand holding tightly to Sam’s pants as he looked back at Henry, who was sitting at a table, with curious eyes.

“Driver's license says he's Henry Winchester from Normal, Illinois,” Sam was saying. “He knows Dad's birthday, the exact place where he was born. Dude... that's our grandfather.”

Dean, however, wasn’t looking happy at the news. “I'm just saying, before we break out the warm and toasties, let's not forget that, uh, H.G. Wells over there left Dad high and dry when he was a kid.”

“But maybe he didn't run out on Dad. I mean, not on purpose. Maybe he time traveled here and, I don't know, got stuck.”

Dean wasn’t convinced. “Yeah, well, either way, Dad hated the son of a bitch.”

“And Dad made up for that how? By being father of the year?”

Just then, the waitress finally came up to them and handed over their food. “Here you go.”

“Thanks.” Dean told her, not even sparing her a glance. “Look, Dad had his issues, okay, but he was always there for us.” Both brothers picked up a tray and started towards Henry, Harry following behind. “I freaking hate time travel man.”

They got to the table and set the food down, Sam and Dean sitting across from Henry with Harry in the seat furthest from him.

“How you doing?” Sam asked his newly discovered kin.

“I'll be fine. After all, despite everything... I've just met my grandsons, haven't I? And my… great-grandson?” He looked toward Sam and Dean for conformation, but none is given.

Not deterred, he held his hand out to Sam. “Henry Winchester.” Sam took it and gave a slight shake. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Sam,” he replied.

Henry gave him a thankful smile. “Hello, Sam.” He then held out his hand to Dean, but the elder brother merely looked at it.

“Dinner.” He said, putting one of the food baskets in front of the other man and then turned his attention to tearing apart Harry’s chicken strips for the boy to eat.

“This is Dean,” Sam said in his stead. “And Harry.”

Henry pulled his hand back awkwardly. “Right.”

Finished with Harry’s food, Dean looked back to Henry. “Well, this has been touching. How about we figure out how to clean up your mess, huh?”

Ignoring the implied insult, Henry nodded. “Abaddon. Yes, she must be stopped.” He flicked a glace toward Harry, who just continued to eat, somehow sensing this wouldn’t be a good time to speak up. “However, perhaps this would be a conversation best had away from young ears.”

Dean straightened a bit and narrowed his eyes. “Harry’s fine.”

Henry looked at him in disbelief. “It is against regulations for a child to - ”

“I said he’s fine. You just let me and Sam worry about him. Now, how come the bit - she didn't die when I stabbed her?” Dean questioned, checking his language at a look from Sam.

Henry looked frustrated at the dismissal of some supposed rule, but gave in as both brothers continued to look at him, waiting for an answer. “Because demons can't be killed by run-of-the-mill cutlery. At the very least, you'd need an ancient demon-killing knife of the Kurds.”

Dean pulled Ruby’s knife partway out of his inside jacket pocket. “That's what this is.”

Henry looked at it in surprise. “Where did you get that?”

Dean shoved the knife back in the pocket. “Demon gave it to me.” He shook his head with a bitter smile. “We've been around this block so many times.”

Sam swallowed his food, “Now, that portal or whatever it was you came through... is it still open?”

“I highly doubt it.” Henry looked at the younger Winchester curiously. “Why?”

“I'm just thinking if we can't kill this Abaddon - ”

“- Maybe we can shove her back where she came from.” Dean finished, catching on. He looked back to Henry, “How did you do it?”

“It's a blood sigil. Blood leads to blood.” He gained a saddened look. “Or their next of kin.”

“But Abaddon came through it also, right?” Sam pointed out. “So you can create this blood sigil again?”

Henry nodded. “My blood, an angel feather, tears of a dragon, a pinch of the sands of time,” he listed. “I- I would need those and... at least a week for my soul to recharge, but, yes, it's possible.”

The younger Winchester brother looked surprised at that and leaned forward eagerly. “You tapped the power of your soul to get here? I thought only angels could do that.”

Henry gave a confused frown at that. “You should know this. What level are you two?”

“What level?” Dean repeated.

“Level of knowledge.” Henry replied, as if it should be obvious. “You're Men of Letters, correct?”

The brothers shared a confused look then turned back to their grandfather.

“I'm a little rusty on my boy bands. Men of what?”

“Men of Letters.” Henry said again, sounding a little concerned. “Like your father, who taught you our ways.”

“Our father taught us how to be hunters.” Sam corrected.

Henry laughed for a moment, then stopped when he realized they were serious. “You're not. Are you? Hunters?” He said in disbelief. “Well, hunters are... hunters are apes. You're supposed to- you're legacies.”

“Legacies of what?” Dean asked for them both.

“Daddy? Can I have more ketchup?” Harry spoke up quietly.


	7. As Time Goes By - Part 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

It was four hours later and night was just beginning to settle in when Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot of a cheap motel. He cut the engine and made to exit when Henry, sitting in the passenger seat, spoke up.

“Wait. Why have you stopped? We must get to Normal as soon as possible. Abaddon must not be allowed to -”

“Yeah, I know,” Dean bit out in response. He glanced to the backseat where Sam was sitting with a nodding off Harry pressed to his side. “But I’m not driving through the night. Harry isn’t used to such long car rides and he’s been alright so far, but I wouldn’t bet money on it lasting much longer. Besides, after everything that has happened today, and especially his reaction to Abaddon earlier, he needs someplace to rest. We’ll finish the drive in the morning.”

Dean left the car before anything else could be said and entered the front to check out a room. He returned a few minutes later and moved the Impala closer to their given room. Handing the keys to Sam, he popped the trunk and grabbed the duffels they always kept there. Turning back once he made it to the door, he saw Henry continuing to sit stubbornly in the passenger seat.

“Hey, old man. You gonna come in or keep pouting in the car all night?”

He entered the room without waiting for a response to see his brother trying to calm down a suddenly wide awake Harry, who was bouncing around the small room, snooping in everything curiously. Dean merely watched on in amusement and made no move to help. Sam finally gave up on trying to talk Harry down from his sudden excitement and grabbed him around the middle as he ran by, dumping the boy on one of the beds and tickling him while he cried out in laughter.

By this time Henry had come in the room as well and had settled himself at the small table. While Sam set Harry up with the small TV and cartoons, the elder brother dug around in one of the duffels, pulled out a bag of salt and began making the usual lines in the doorway and window sill.

Once everything was done to his satisfaction, Dean sat at the table as well, joined soon by Sam, and both looked at Henry expectantly. The other Winchester, however, seemed content to ignore them both and busy himself with trying out the crappy phone provided by the motel.

He held it up to his ear. “Operator, I need Delta 457.”

Dean snatched it away from him and dropped it back on the cradle. “Who the hell are you trying to call?”

“Our emergency number,” Henry answers with an annoyed look.

“‘Our’ being the Men of Letters?” guessed Sam.

“Yes.”

“You wanna finally fill us in on that?” said Dean, leaning forward.

“It’s none of your concern.”

“Why? Because we’re hunters? What do you have against us, anyway?”

Henry gives them both an unimpressed look. “Aside from the unthinking, unwashed, shoot-first-and-don't-bother-to-ask-questions-later part, not much, really.”

Dean narrowed his eyes and even Sam took offense at that, speaking up once more, “You know what? Wait a second. We're also John's children.”

Henry paused at that and turned his gaze away from his grandchildren and ended up focusing on the young boy watching cartoons and ignoring the adult’s conversation. His expression relaxed into something sad and longing before he replied.

“You're more than that, actually. My father and his father before him were Men of Letters, as John and you two should have been. We're preceptors, beholders, chroniclers of all that which man does not understand. We share our findings with a few trusted hunters, the very elite. They do the rest.”

Dean sat back. “So, you're like Yodas to our Jedis.”

Henry finally turned back and stared at the shorter brother with a blankly confused look on his face. It was an expression Dean was intimately familiar with, but had been seeing less often of late. He half expected Henry to respond with something along the lines of not understanding the reference, but dismissed his own remark with a “Nevermind” before anything could be said.

Sam tried to turn the conversation back on track. “What is it in Normal that you’re in such a hurry to get to?”

The man seemed to take a moment to think about how much he should tell them.

“It is one of the bases for the Men of Letters. I am hoping to get in contact with them and gain their assistance in dealing with Abaddon.”

The brothers shared a look and Sam leaned forward a bit. “Henry, I don’t think you’re going to find any help there. I mean, if you guys were such a big deal, then why haven't we, or anyone we know, ever heard of you?”

“As I said, we contacted and gave our information only to the elite. I am sure you and your brother are good hunters, but-“

Dean interrupted, “Believe me when I say - me and Sam? We’re about as elite as it gets nowadays.”

Henry glanced between them both, and then his shoulders seemed to drop a bit. “Abaddon. She must be the reason.”

“But why would she go after them? Why is she chasing you?” Sam pressed.

In answer, Henry pulled out a small wooden box about the size of a deck of cards and laid it on the table. On it was carved the same symbol found on the pin of Henry’s tie.

“Okay, what’s that?”

“I wish I knew.” He put the box back in his pocket. “Abaddon attacked us the night of my final initiation. All secrets were to be revealed then.”

Dean blinked. “Let me get this straight. You traveled through time to protect something that does you don't know what from a demon that you know nothing about?” Henry stayed silent and Dean nodded. “Good.”

The displaced Winchester gave a sigh. “They can’t all be gone. There must be another elder out there who can help us figure out how to stop Abaddon and what to do with the box.”

All three were still for a moment, and then Dean went to Sam’s bag and pulled out his laptop. “Alright, Sammy. Do your geek thing.”

His brother rolled his eyes then turned to Henry. “Yeah, alright um… give me a name. Anybody who, uh, might have been there that night. One of those elders.”

Henry blinked at the machine in front of him for a moment, as if trying to figure out what it was, and then listed off a few names while Sam entered them on the computer. 

“Okay, here it is. Um, August 12, 1958. A tragic fire at a gentlemen’s club. Uh, 242 Gaines Street.”

“That’s the address for the Men of Letters. But it was no fire.”

Sam turned the laptop slightly so all three could see the news article showing on the screen.

“Larry Ganem, David Ackers, Ted Bowen, and Albert Magnus – all deceased.”

“Albert Magnus.” Henry sat back in his seat with a determined look on his face.

“He a friend of yours?”

“Even better. We will need to visit the cemetery where they are-”

He was interrupted by Dean’s cell phone ringing. “Hello? Cas! Where the hell are you? I called for you hours ago!... Hold on, what?... You-?!... Yeah, alright. We’re at a Motel 6 on the edge of Cedar Rapids, room 27.”

Before he had even hung up, there was a knock at the door.


	8. As Time Goes By - Part 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

Henry sent the door a wary look as Dean put his phone away and moved to open it. “Since when do you use the front door?” Dean said in way of greeting to the man on the other side.

Castiel made his way inside and stopped in the middle of the room, studying the new member of the group. “I sensed an additional presence in the area. You have told me before that my usual method of arrival can be disconcerting to those not used to it.”

Dean blinked and gave a teasing smile. “Well, look at you, all learning to be human and shit.” The angel ignored the comment in favor of the young boy who ran up to him.

“Cas!” Harry yelled excitedly, wrapping his arms around the angel’s legs.

“Hello Harry.” Castiel picked him up and moved to sit on the closest bed with Harry chatting happily in his lap.

“You alright Cas?” Dean asked suddenly and Sam turned his attention fully on the angel, noticing how tired and ruffled he looked, his clothes in disarray and hair more windswept than usual. “You want to tell me what that was about on the phone?”

Castiel gave a quiet sigh. “Very well. When you said the demon who attacked you was called Abaddon, I had to go and verify it for myself. She is one of the elder and more powerful of Hell’s demons known as the Knights of Hell.”

“Knights of Hell are hand-picked by Lucifer himself. They are the first-fallen, first-born demons,” Henry put in, looking at Castiel with curiosity and a measure of distrust. “Legend has it that Archangels had killed them all, which as we have witnessed, is not the case.”

The angel gave him a nod. “There were a few of them who had evaded the Archangel’s perusal until recently.” He flicked his gaze to the brothers. “Lilith and Alistair among them. Abaddon is one who had vanished with no discernible trace many decades ago. It is obvious now that she had traveled through time to this moment.”

In the short pause that followed, Henry straitened up and held out a hand. “It seems we have yet to be properly introduced. My name is -”

“Henry Winchester,” the angel stated with a nod, ignoring the offered hand. “Father of John Winchester and husband of Audrey Winchester. You were to be inducted as a member of the Men of Letters in 1958, before you went missing on the night of your initiation ceremony during an attack on the premises.”

Henry pulled his hand back, eyes wide. “How do you know that? Who are you exactly?”

“My name is Castiel. I am…” He trailed off, looking at the two brothers.

Dean gave a quick nod. “He’s an angel.”

Henry’s face went from exasperated disbelief to surprise to awe when he realized they were telling the truth. “An angel?” he whispered, looking at Castiel.

“Yes. Though not your average example of one.”

Henry blinked a few times before turning back to the brothers. “How are you two on casual terms with an angel? It’s unheard of for one to communicate directly with average humans. The Men of Letters have been trying for decades to contact one.”

“Long story,” Sam deadpanned. “Suffice to say the world was at stake, but everything was dealt with. Cas just decided to keep in contact afterward.”

The other Winchester looked like he had quite a few more questions to put forth, but Dean cut him off before he could get started.

“What happened with Abaddon, Cas?”

Castiel let Harry go as he wiggled off the angel’s lap back to the TV, bored with being ignored in favor of the conversation. “As I said, I merely wished to observe your attacker to verify the demon’s identity. However, it seems I underestimated her power. She sensed my presence quickly. Though I have grown stronger since my resurrection, I am not equal to the might of an Archangel, and that is what it would require for one of the host to vanquish a Knight of Hell. I got away without serious wounds, but it took some time for me to regain enough of my grace to heal and travel to your location. That is the reason for my late arrival.”

Sam gave a small nod before speaking. “Alright. At least we know what were up against now and we can still use your help with stopping her.”

“I’m not sure how much help I can provide.” The angel looked apologetic. “Now that she knows of me, Abaddon will surely put up defenses to restrict my involvement.”

The elder brother ran a hand down his face. “Right.”

Castiel stood back up. “If there is nothing else, I must go and inform the others of this development. It is possible one of them will come to take care of the demon.”

Henry looked excited at the possibility. “Really? How likely is that?”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Dean answered dully with folded arms and a scowl. Henry’s face fell as the angel nodded in confirmation.

“I will contact you if I gain any information on the demons location.”

“Wait!” Sam called before he could disappear. “There was something we wanted to talk about with you.”

Dean blinked in remembrance, “Oh. Uh, you go ahead Sam. I’ll stay here with the kid.”

The younger brother nodded and motioned Castiel to follow him outside. As soon as the door closed, the angel looked up at Sam with an expectant expression. “What is it that you did not want your grandfather to hear?”

Sam ran a hand through is hair and glanced back at the door. “It’s Harry. He had a bad reaction to the demon. As soon as he saw it, he covered his eyes and started screaming in fear. You think he saw something? Something with her or around her that could have scared him that much?”

Castiel thought for a moment before giving his answer. “What we know of the effects of my grace so far is that he has the ability to see my true form beneath that of my vessel. It is possible that he can see the same of demons. A demon’s visage is an awful thing to behold, something that could easily frighten a small child.”

The Winchester gave a nod. “Yeah, that’d make sense. Without him being able to tell us what he saw, though, it’s impossible to know for sure. Thanks anyway. If anything else happens, we’ll let you know.”

“Of course. I shall do the same.” And with that, the angel disappeared with a slight flutter of wings. Sam shook his head with a slight smile at the abrupt departure and went back into the motel.

* * *

 

It was a couple hours later and Sam was attempting to get Harry into bed while Dean searched their father’s journal for any mention of Abaddon or the Knights of Hell. The young boy was throwing a fit and generally doing anything he could not to fall asleep. Given the rough and unusual day the family had, it was understandable. All the same, the younger Winchester really wished the child would give in to his tiredness already. Or that Dean would finally step in to lend a hand.

Henry, who had been sitting quietly, apparently lost in his own thoughts, got up and sat on the opposite side of the bed to the child and his uncle. He leaned back against the headboard and began whistling a familiar tune. Harry quieted after a few moments and turned his attention to the man, watching him intently. Soon, the boy relaxed into the bed and his eyes drooped sleepily. When he was completely out, Sam gratefully tucked him in.

“What was that?” Dean spoke up quietly. “I know that tune.”

His grandfather looked toward him. “As Time Goes By. I hope so. It’s from Casablanca.”

Sam nodded. “Right. Dad used to whistle it from time to time.”

Henry gave a small smile. “Your father saw Abbott and Costello Meet the Mummy at the drive-in one night. It scared the beeswax out of him. So I got him this little music box that played that song to help him sleep at night. It worked like a charm.” He glanced at Harry. “Seems it still does.”

The younger brother huffed a laugh. “Wow, it’s hard to believe Dad was scared of anything.”

Any more was cut off by Dean shutting the book he had been flipping through. “Well, according to Dad’s journal, he once tortured a demon that said it made its bones working for Abaddon. Names her a Knight of Hell, but doesn’t give anything we didn’t already know.” He then got up and grabbed a beer before sitting in front of the television with the volume turned down low.

A few moments of relative silence passed when Henry looked to Sam. “The boy’s mother – where is she?”

“Dead,” Dean answered shortly, taking a pull from his bottle.

The other started slightly, obviously thinking he would not be heard by his eldest grandson. A look of sympathy crossed his face. “I’m sorry.”

Dean gave him a measuring stare before continuing, “So is his father.”

The look turned to one of surprise. “I thought…”

“We found him. Heard an explosion and went to check it out. His house had been attacked. Both his parents were already gone by the time we got there, trying to protect him it looked like. He was alone in the nursery and no one else was around, so we brought him with us.” He stopped the story there and shared a long look with Sam. It was obvious they were communicating something silently, but how or what it could be was lost on the displaced Winchester.

Finally, Dean shrugged and Sam nodded, turning to his grandfather with an odd expression – a mix of caution and eagerness. “What do you know about wizards?”


	9. As Time Goes By - Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

“Wizards?” Henry repeated in shock. “How do you even know-?” His eyes widened in realization and flicked down to the boy asleep on the bed. “He’s one… Isn’t he?”

Sam nodded a conformation while Dean watched their grandfather’s reaction closely. “We found his parents holding their wands. Cas told us about witches and wizards after we showed them to him.” Henry still seemed surprised into silence, so he continued. “The next day we went back to his home and found the bodies missing and a sign out front like some kind of memorial. Grabbed any books that looked like they had useful information and left. We expected someone to come looking for the kid, but not a sign of them so far.”

“Dear Lord.” Henry got up and began pacing the small area in front of the beds. “This is unprecedented. The Men of Letters has been attempting to gain information on the magic users for years! For you to just pick up one of their young and take it home with no consequence… Just think what we can learn from observing him as he ages and his abilities develop!”

“Hey!” Dean’s voice was sharp as he stood up, stepping to his brother’s side near the bed. “Watch what you say! He’s family, not some fucking experiment!”

The man blinked at the sudden aggression. “No. You’re right. I apologize,” he said, looking somewhat ashamed of his earlier words. Dean, however, didn’t back down and continued to stare at him in warning.

Sam took over the conversation, though looked none too happy himself at their grandfather. “Why don’t you just tell us what the Men of Letters knew about them.”

Henry gave a sigh and sat down at the table. “Alright… Our society only recently learned of their existence, so our knowledge is limited. It was during World War II; the magic user’s government had become aware of plans made by the Men of Letters to counter and defend against supernatural forces being harnessed by the axis powers.” Sam looked intrigued at this information, but held back questioning it. “Representatives contacted our elders and formed an alliance of sorts to combine our power and strategize.

“They are a very secretive lot – refused to even give an honest answer as to their reasons for suddenly revealing themselves and offering their aid. It was discovered years later that a dark wizard from their society had a large influence on the events of the war and they felt a responsibility to stop him with minimal casualties. During that period, the wizards only gave us the bare minimum of information regarding their societies and next to nothing of their powers.

“We only know that they manipulate an energy they refer to as magic to contort reality itself. This magic originates from within them and is always present at birth if they have this ability – it is not something that can be gained from an outside spell or ritual and usually runs within family bloodlines with the occasional exception. Their governments are often referred to as Ministries of Magic and are headed by a Minister elected by their people. Groups of them are found mostly within Europe and Asia, with a few scattered throughout Africa and South America, and none at all have been located in the North American continent. Why this is, we have yet to know.” He turned his head down with a resigned look. “Of course, all of this was over 40 years ago, so undoubtedly it’s changed by now.”

“Actually, it doesn’t sound like it’s changed much at all.” Henry looked curious at the younger brother’s remark. “The books we picked up from the house – some of them were schoolbooks and said basically the same you did about their magic. And from what me and Bobby can tell, their society hasn’t evolved much for centuries.”

“I would very much like to read these books.”

“Well, it ain’t happening tonight,” Dean cut in. He still looked to be in a bad mood as he grabbed his half-empty beer and proceeded to ignore them for the television again.

Sam looked between the two Winchesters for a moment then began readying for sleep. He lay down on the bed beside Harry, trying to get comfortable in the tense atmosphere. He would sleep for a few hours, then wake and bug his brother to get some as well before they resumed their drive to Normal the next day.

* * *

 

The next morning dawned with an excitable bouncing Harry and an amused Sam sitting at the table with a cup of coffee.

“Daddy!”

Dean let out a soft grunt as the little wizard landed on his stomach. Harry gave a chocolate covered grin in response as the brother ruffled his hair.

“Sammy got donuts!” the boy proclaimed, holding out his own with a sticky hand.

“Yeah, I see that.” He took a bite of the one stuck in front of his face, gaining a round of giggles from the kid. Harry jumped off him to save the rest of his breakfast and ran back to Sam.

Dean followed after a stretch and was glad to see another two cups of coffee sitting by the box of donuts. He looked at his little brother with a teasing smile as he claimed a cup.

“Mister ‘no sugar for the two-year-old’ getting donuts for breakfast? Did I miss the memo for the next apocalypse?”

“Funny. Jerk.”

“Bitch,” was the automatic response, then Dean glanced at Harry guiltily.

Sam wore a slight smile as he told the little boy, “You don’t say that word, alright Harry?”

“I know. That’s Daddy’s word.”

Dean gave a laugh as he picked a donut from the box and took a large bite. “That’s right, little man.” He finished off the donut and walked to the bedside table to gab his cell phone. “We should call Bobby. Ask him to keep Harry while we finish this job.”

“I already did,” the younger said before his brother could dial. “He’s on his way. I tried praying to Cas too, but since he went to heaven, it’s probably going to take a while for him to finish up there, given how things are still so messed up.”

“Grandpa’s coming?” Harry looked up with a smile from where he was licking chocolate off his fingers.

“Yep. We need to go to work, so Grandpa’s gonna come and keep you for a bit.”

Harry looked like he didn’t know what to think about this and wore a small frown, but nodded anyway.

Dean ruffled his hair once more and the wizard gave a giggle. “It’ll only be for a couple days. When we finish, me and Sammy will take you for ice cream. How about that?”

“Okay!” Harry had a grin on his face once more and happily went back to tearing apart a second donut.

It wasn’t until nearly eleven in the morning that Henry finally woke up. He explained that using soul energy to power spells was very draining and oversleeping was common to help recharge the soul. Afterwards, it was another hour before Bobby showed at the motel and took Harry with him.

The boy was reluctant to go and gave all three Winchesters a large hug, including Henry, who looked surprised at first, but gladly returned it. Then the two got in an old truck and were gone. Almost immediately, Henry began shooing the brothers to get their belongings so they could continue the trip to Normal.

* * *

 

It was a very long four and a half hour drive filled with over loud classic rock and awkward conversation attempts. When they reached the city, the three stopped for dinner to wait for the sun to drop a bit more, giving them cover during their time at the cemetery, despite Henry’s complaints about wasting time.

Sam and Dean walked through the cemetery first, carrying flashlights and methodically looking for the correct graves. Henry followed a bit slower behind them until the elder brother called their attention to a line of headstones, reading off a few of the names.

Henry looked at them sadly. “These were my friends, my mentors. Our last defense against the Abaddons of the world.”

Sam gave him a sympathetic look, but said nothing while his brother continued examining the stones. He stopped in front of one.

“Here's your buddy Albert Magnus.”

Their grandfather gave a little shake of his head to rid himself of his previous thoughts and joined the other at the grave.

“Albertus Magnus. He was hardly a buddy. He was the greatest alchemist of the middle ages.”

“Okay, so why is he buried here?” Sam questioned.  
“He's not. This was the alias we'd use when going incognito. I believe someone planted his name in that article... so that if a Man of Letters came looking for answers, he'd know something was amiss.”

“So someone wanted you to come to this grave.”

Henry nodded thoughtfully. “The question is why?”

Dean noticed a symbol carved into the stone and recognized it as the same one present on the mysterious box and his grandfather’s pin. He moved the flashlight onto it.

“What is this?”

“Our crest. The Aquarian Star, representing great magic and power. They say it stood at the gates of Atlantis itself.”

“Hmm.” Sam moved back down the line of graves, looking at each of them. “It's on all the tombstones except for this one – uh, Larry Ganem.”

Henry crouched down in front of it. He pointed to the symbol found on it, which was different than the others. “The Haitian symbol for speaking to the dead. This is the message.” He stood back up and glanced between the brothers. “You boys ever exhume a body?”

They looked at each other.

After much digging by the Winchester brothers, a coffin was finally visible. They finished removing the last layer of dirt while Henry crouched to the side, waiting impatiently for them to finish.

Dean finally straitened and glanced at the other Winchester. “Gonna tell me how we got stuck doing this?”

Sam grimaced, but didn’t answer as they began lifting the top of the box out of the hole. When it was opened, Henry had a disturbed look on his face, while the bothers examined the skeleton clad in an old military uniform.

Dean was breathing heavily as he asked, “Hey, was uh, Larry a World War I vet?”

Henry shook his head. “No.”

“Well, then whose the stiff?”

“No idea.”

Sam furrowed his brows as he looked at the body, then picked up the metal tags around its neck. “Captain Thomas J. Carey III. That mean anything to you?”

Henry merely gave another shake of the head.

“Well somebody wanted you to see this.” Dean said. “So maybe that somebody is Larry.”

Sam stood back up. “So maybe he, uh, survives the attack… and hides out with this guy’s identity?”

The displaced Winchester gave a slight nod as he thought it over. “Okay. Well, what are we waiting for, then?” He stood and began walking away without another glance. “Cover this up. Let’s be on our way.”

* * *

 

Later that night finds them once more in a motel. Sam was flipping through their father’s journal at the table, his brother next to him searching the laptop for sign of Larry Ganem’s whereabouts. Henry sat on the couch, curiously going through the channels on the TV.

“Hey,” Dean broke the relative silence, the other’s attention turning to him. “According to county records, Tom Carey lives in Labanon, Kansas, and is a very happy 127-year old.” He closed the computer. “I say we get some shut-eye, head over first thing in the morning.”

Sam looked agreeable, but Henry walked over to the younger brother’s side, looking at the book in his hands.

“You say that belonged to your father?” he asked, gesturing to it.

“Yeah.”

“May I?”

“It's a hunter's journal.” Sam said as he slid it over to him, Dean watching as well. “I assume Men of Letters... you use journals, too?”

Henry opened it slowly, looking at the organized chaos of notes filling the pages. “I intended to. I sent away for one the day before my initiation.” He turned back to the front cover and lifted a photograph of John in the military, revealing the initials H.W. stamped into the leather. “As a matter of fact, judging by my initials here… this one, I believe.”

Dean leaned back in his chair a bit. “That was yours?”

“It must have arrived after…” Henry looked at his grandsons, an expression of sad realization crossing his features. “I’m beginning to gather I don’t make it back from this time, do I?”

“We don’t know, for sure.” Sam said slowly. “All we know is that Dad never saw you again.”

“What did he think happened to me?”

The younger opened his mouth to answer, but didn’t know what to say.

“He thought you ran out on him.” Dean spoke in his stead.

Henry sat down at the table, clearly upset. “John was a legacy. I was supposed to teach him the ways of the Letters.”

Dean looked down at the table. “Well, he learned things a little differently.”

“How?”

“The hard way.” He faced his grandfather again with an unimpressed look. “Surviving a lonely childhood, a stinkin' war... only to get married and have his wife taken by a demon. And later killed by one himself.” Sam looked between them, expression slightly sad at the mention of his father’s past, but didn’t interrupt. His brother leaned forward, elbows on the table. “That man got a bum rap around every turn. But you know what? He kept going. And in the end, he did a hellava lot more good than he did bad.”

“I’m sorry. I wish I had been there for him.”

“Yeah. It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?” Dean got up from the table and moved toward the door, visibly upset now.

“It's the price we pay for upholding great responsibility. We know that.” Henry said, while the elder brother grabbed his leather jacket.

Dean turned back once more. “Your responsibility was to your family! Not some glorified book club!”

Henry didn’t look at him. “I was a legacy. I had no choice!”

“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that.” With that, Dean walked out the door, determined to head to the closest bar.

Sam stayed quiet for a moment, and then got up from the table. Henry began reading the journal in front of him as the tallest Winchester readied for sleep. It was hours later that he finally closed it, Dean having returned a while ago without a word and both brothers now asleep on the beds.

When they woke in the morning, John’s journal sat in the middle of the table and Henry was nowhere to be found.


	10. As Time Goes By - Part 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

“Hey! Wake up!” Sam called, hitting his older brother on the shoulder with the notepad he had found after waking.

“What? What?!” Dean sat up groggily.

“Henry - he’s gone!”

Dean blinked some more and rubbed his eyes, trying to focus on the situation. “Where is he?”

“No idea. He just left a note saying he was going to _fix_ everything,” the taller answered, flashing the notepad in his hand.

“Yeah, or screw it all up. Alright.” Sam let out a sigh as his brother got out of bed and made a minor effort to fix his hair. As Dean pulled on his shoes and usual layers of clothes, the younger grabbed his phone and called Castiel. The angel still didn’t answer his prayers as often as Dean’s and this was usually the quickest way for the younger Winchester to get a hold of him.

“ _Sam_ ,” came the normal greeting as Dean walked out the front door.

“Hey. Can you come over here? Henry’s disappeared.”

“ _Yes. What is your location?_ ”

“The Strip 91 Motel, just south of Normal. Room -”

“I’m here.”

Sam spun around to see Castiel standing close to the doorway, phone still held up to his ear. He lowered his own and the angel copied the movement. “Right. Thanks for coming.”

Dean reentered the motel room then, not even blinking at the additional presence, but gave a nod in greeting. “Well, now we know what he meant by ‘ _fix everything_ ’.” He stood in between the two others, gesturing outside with a frustrated expression. “He broke into the trunk, stole one of Cas’s feathers. I'm guessing he's gonna whip up another one of those blood spells and Marty McFly himself back to the 1950s.”

“To do what?” Sam scoffed. “Stop Abaddon before she strikes?”

“Or grab Dad and haul ass. Look, point is he’s doing it.”

“How? He still needs two ingredients for the spell. Unless…” Sam stopped and held up a finger in thought, pacing the room a bit. “Unless there’s some place nearby that sells actual hoodoo.”

Dean nodded and pulled out his phone. “I’ll call Bobby.”

Castiel spoke up then. “You must find him quickly. Abaddon has hidden her location from me, but it should be assumed that she is not far behind you.”

“Right.” Sam turned to the angel. “Can you take me to Lebanon, Kansas? A man is living there under the name Tom Carey who may have some information. It’d be easier than the nine hour drive."

“Of course. You have the address?”

Sam’s reply was cut off by Dean’s phone snapping closed and the two turned their attention to the elder brother. “Bobby says there’s a shop not far from here used by some local hunters. Henry’s on foot, so I should be able to catch up to him.”

His brother nodded, shrugging on an over shirt and grabbing his jacket. “Okay. You go after him and Cas’ll fly me over to Larry. I’ll call when I get some answers.”

* * *

 

The wind swirled briefly around Sam and Castiel as they landed on the sidewalk in front of the home of “Tom Carey” and his wife. Sam looked around, trying to orientate himself after the sudden change in scenery. He took a step towards the house, expecting the angel to follow, but paused when he noticed Castiel’s attention was focused elsewhere.

“Cas? Something up?”

The other answered without facing him. “There is a demon nearby. We should proceed with caution.”

“In the house?”

“No. I can’t determine an exact location. It’s probably searching the surrounding area for us. It does not feel strong enough to be Abaddon, but we need to move fast and be on our guard in any case.”

“Alright. Let’s go then.” Sam moved to the front door, significantly more wary than before. Dean had the demon killing knife with him still, but Castiel would be able to handle any of the lower powered demons. According to Cas, though, Abaddon was another matter – if she showed up, they’d be in trouble. However, they needed this information and couldn’t turn back now.

The Winchester rapped his knuckles three quick times on the blue door and waited a moment before an elderly woman opened it slightly.

“Hello. My name is Sam – Sam _Winchester_ and this is Castiel.  We were hoping to ask Larry Ganem a few questions. It’s quite important.”

The woman looked faintly startled. “Winchester, you say?”

“Yes m’am.”

She hesitated a moment, but beckoned them in, casting a glance at the silent Castiel. After closing the door, she led them into a living room where who Sam presumed was Larry sat in an armchair, unfocused eyes faced in their general direction.

Given Castiel’s warning about the need to move quickly, Sam wasted no time with beating around the bush and began explaining their purpose for being there – giving an altered story about having come across the box accidentally and running into Abaddon.

“So, Henry is dead.” The old man looked saddened by the news as his wife moved between them, pouring tea. “I was so sure that – that he had survived.”

“Yes, well, um, like I said, I found his journal and was hoping you could fill in the gaps and explain to me… what happened that night in 1958.”

The man made a noise of dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. They’re gone. We’re gone.”

“But Abaddon is not,” Sam pushed.

“Abaddon was a hired gun. She killed us all that one night.”

“Everyone, but you.”

“She _blinded_ me.” Larry said, pointing to his unseeing eyes. “It’s a miracle I survived.”

His wife leaned over with a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, dear.”

The man gave a humorless chuckle and kissed her hand. “But she did not get what she came for.”

“The box.” The Winchester leaned forward, feeling uneasy at Castiel’s continued silence and stiff posture, and spoke more urgently. “Listen, Abaddon is here, and she _wants_ this thing. So I need to know _everything_ there is to know about it.”

Larry finally gave in and began talking. “In the box is the key to every object, scroll, spell ever collected for thousands of years under one roof.” Sam sat back slowly, looking awed at the idea of such a thing. “It is the supernatural mother load.”

“So... Abaddon wants the key so she can get her hands on it.”

The old man chuckled again. “Can you imagine what she would do with that?”

Sam shook his head slightly. “So, how do we stop her? How do we stop Abaddon?”

“You don’t.”

Sam’s disappointment was obvious as he turned his face downward, clenching his hands and jaw a bit. His attention was drawn back to Larry as the man took out a pad of paper and a pen, and wrote something down.

“If you know where the key is, then take it to these coordinates.” He handed the Winchester the paper and Sam quickly memorized the location. “Throw it in, shut the door forever, and walk away.”

His head snapped back up at these words in disbelief. “Wait. Why would I do that?”

“Because it is the safest place on Earth, warded against any evil ever created. It is impervious to any entry, _except the key_.”

“Right, but then all that knowledge would be- would be lost and gone _forever_.”

The old man sat back in his chair, sounding resigned. “And that is the price we have to pay for keeping it away from Abaddon. You do… have the key, don’t you?”

“I don’t, but, uh, my brother…” He trailed off, watching Larry’s wife reenter the room. When had she left? “My brother does.”

Suddenly, Castiel seemed to break out of whatever focused trance he had been in and surged to his feet. “Sam! She’s a demon!”

Sam jumped up as well, reaching for the demon knife that wasn’t there. The angel moved in between the now black eyed demon and the Winchester, but a swift wave of the old woman’s hand sent him flying out the front window.

The woman turned back towards the hunter. “How rude. You haven’t finished your tea, Sam.”

He swung his fist toward her, but she easily pushed it aside and hit him over the head. He collapsed to the ground, out cold.

A look of horror had spread over the old man’s face. “Abaddon.”

The Knight raised a knife. “The years have not been kind, _Larry_.” A slash of her arm, and blood splattered over the walls from the new slice in the Man of Letter’s throat.

Abaddon spun back around just in time for Castiel’s palm to connect solidly with her chest. He could tell the poor woman being used as a vessel was already dead and felt no remorse for the further damage to her body. The demon flew back and struck the doorway to the kitchen, leaving a very noticeable crack in the wood, but merely stood back up, looking at the angel with irritation. The frail-looking vessel obviously did not hinder her strength.

“Cute.” Another wave of her hand and Castiel was sent into a side wall and through it to the next room. Abaddon was next to him instantly, grabbing the lapels of his tan coat and swinging a fist into his jaw. “Not very bright are you? Attacking when you’re obviously out of your league.” Another hit. “Hmm. I recognize you. You’re the one who was sneaking around earlier and flew off before we could have some real fun.” Castiel reached up and gripped her clothes in return, trying to switch their positions, but the Knight pulled the angel up and slammed his head into a nearby desk, breaking the object. “Well, we’ll have to amend that mistake, won’t we?”

* * *

 

Dean pushed open the door to the small hoodoo shop and looked around. No employee was in sight, so Henry must have taken care of them.

“Poo-goh. Kah-nee-lah…” The chanting was coming from the back of the store, out of sight behind some shelves. When he reached the area, he found Henry standing in front of a glowing symbol painted on a door.

“Henry, wait!”

His grandfather stopped chanting, but didn’t turn around. “This is a risk I have to take.”

“And what if you die, huh?” Dean stood his ground, trying to talk the other man out of it. “Who says you’ll even survive the jump?”

Henry then faced Dean, a pained expression on his face, and the symbol stopped glowing. “You cannot begin to understand how I felt after reading John's journal.”

“Oh, I think I can. See, I've read that thing more times than you can imagine, and it hurts every time!”

“Maybe so, but you didn't let him down, I did! Just like you said!” As Henry got more upset, his voice gained volume, hands making sharp gestures in front of himself.

Dean closed his eyes, his own voice rising in response. “Well I was wrong!”

“No!” the Man of Letters shouted, then gathered himself and continued marginally calmer. “No, you were right. And I'm going to go back and give him the life he deserves, not the one he was forced to live.”

“And what if it’s not meant to be?”

“Then it will be!” he shouted again, composure slipping.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because it’s the _right_ thing to do! I can _save_ him… _and_ stop Abaddon!”

The brother paused, looking as if he was contemplating the other’s words now. “How?”

Henry had calmed once more, seeing the chance of convincing his eldest grandson, and explained. “By going back an hour before she attacks and making preparations.”

The hunter had sighed and began shaking his head after the first words, remembering his own travels through time and how fruitless his efforts then had been. He didn’t bring it up though, and instead said, “If you do that and you change the past, me and Sam might cease to _exist_!”

The other Winchester wasn’t fazed, however. “I'm aware that time is a delicate mistress, but I'm willing to bet on this being for the best.”

“Listen, I understand that this is not your idea of a happy ending, okay?” Dean’s tone was frustrated at his grandfather’s stubbornness. “And that- that you're disappointed that me and Sam are mouth-breathing hunters, but you know what? We stopped the apocalypse!”

Henry didn’t even blink at this information. “If this works the way I planned, there will never be an apocalypse to stop.”

Anymore of the argument was interrupted by Dean’s cell ringing. He walked a couple steps away as he answered, but was sure to keep an eye on the other. “Sammy?”

A woman’s laugh was his answer. “ _No. Much sexier. Try again._ ”

Dean’s eyes widened slightly as his body stiffened. “Abaddon.”

“ _Good boy. Now, listen up. I want to make a good, old-fashioned horse trade. Henry and the key for your brother… Or he dies._ ”

The hunter closed his eyes as Henry watched on intently.

“ _Am I clear?_ ”

The demon hadn’t said anything about Castiel, and Dean debated quickly over whether to ask about him. If she didn’t have the angel, the Winchester didn’t want to bring her attention to his presence. But Castiel was supposed to be with Sam, and he couldn’t see the other leaving his brother when danger was so near. Which meant his friend was most likely captured as well.

“And Cas?”

“ _Your pet angel? Don’t worry about him, sugar. I’ve got some friends taking good care him._ ”

A flash of anger and worry shot through the hunter. “Where is he?”

“ _Ah ah ah. We’re not discussing him, now are we? We’re talking about your baby brother. Henry and the key, or goodbye to Sammy. Now, am I_ clear _?_ ”

“Crystal.”

“ _On the road to Larry’s is a processing plant. Don’t keep me waiting._ ”

There was silence on the other side and Dean ended the call.

“Abaddon has Sam.” Henry spoke up, more a statement than a question. “And Castiel.”

The brother turned his attention back to him, taking a couple steps forward. “She wants to trade you and the key for Sam’s life.”

“If I could just go back, stop all of this from happening-”

“And what if you can’t?” Dean’s face was stony, mind already made up. “I can’t take that risk. Not with them both on the hook now.”

But Henry was just as set in his decision. “I can’t abandon my son, Dean! Not again. I need to do this. Wouldn’t you do the same?” Dean stayed silent. “I’m sorry.” He turned back to the ritual and began chanting once more, the bloody symbol regaining its golden glow.

“Then I’m sorry too.”

The hunter surged forward and grabbed his grandfather, quickly knocking him unconscious.


	11. As Time Goes By - Part 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

When Henry woke, he found himself in the passenger seat of Dean’s impala. Night had fallen, so he knew they had to be a few hours out of Normal by now. He guessed it wouldn’t be much longer till they reached their destination.

“Sorry about that.”

The man looked to his grandson. Dean was staring steadily out of the windshield, his expression hard, Henry supposed from worry over his brother. “No you’re not. You’ve wanted to do that since we met.”

“Henry, you need to understand something. When my dad died, I couldn't save him...” Dean glanced over at him. “No matter how bad I wanted to. I never want that to happen to Sam. _Ever_. If there's a chance that I can save him… I'm gonna do it. He's my brother. He’s family. If you haven’t noticed, I don’t have much of that left.”

A few minutes of silence passed as Henry looked out the window, thinking over the other Winchester’s words. It was obvious to him how much Dean cared about his family and how close the two brothers were. Undoubtedly, they both had been through a lot; nightmares that the time traveler couldn’t even imagine. Stopping the apocalypse? If Dean’s claim was true – and for some reason, he had no doubt it was – then Henry supposed if anyone could stop Abaddon, these future Winchesters could.

“So, what are you thinking?”

Dean eyed the other man after his unexpected question. “Honestly… still working on it.”

“What about Castiel? Do you have an idea where he might be located?”

The brother’s lips twitched in the beginning of a smirk. “We don’t need to worry about him. He popped in a couple hours ago. Abaddon had handed him off to some low level demons, and he got free and offed them pretty easily. He’s checking out the store house right now, trying to see if there’s any traps.”

“I see. Then that just leaves the question of how to stop Abaddon.”

“Can you slow her down? Because if you can, I’ll do the rest.”

Henry gave it some thought, and then glanced around a bit. “Where is your ammunition?”

The other raised an eyebrow slightly, and jerked his thumb toward the backseat where a smaller duffel sat. Henry reached back, digging a single normal bullet out and grabbing the knife next to it. Dean glanced over curiously as he carefully carved something into the head of the bullet. When he was finished, Henry held it up so his grandson could see it clearly.

“A devil’s trap carved into the bullet,” Dean said, sounding mildly impressed.

“Good. That should work.”

Dean gave a slight jerk in surprise, while Henry almost leapt out of his skin, the bullet slipping from his fingers and landing in his lap. He turned wide eyes to the angel now seated in the back of the Impala.

Castiel gave a slight nod. “I apologize.”

He didn’t look very sorry to Henry.

“What’d you find, Cas?”

The angel turned his attention to the hunter as Henry searched around for his lost bullet.

“Abaddon has surrounded the building in angel warding sigils; therefore I will not be able to aid you when you enter. She has also found some low level demons and has them patrolling the area. I suspect that they are the only help she has been able to gather thus far. Given time, she could have gathered followers of a more challenging strength. I can take care of those while you deal with Abaddon.”

“Alright.” Dean nodded with a determined look as he located a gun, plucking the bullet from Henry’s hand and loading it. He gave the gun to Henry and looked him in the eye.

“You’re gonna have to get close. And close means it could get ugly.”

Henry nodded solemnly back. “I know. But you do that for blood.”

* * *

 

Almost an hour later, Dean walked through the doors of the store house where Abaddon was waiting impatiently with Sam, whose hands were tied in front of him. Castiel was circling the property, silently taking care of the low level demons so the Winchesters could make their escape once Abaddon was dealt with.

Henry’s hands were handcuffed behind his back, and when the demon came into view he played the part of an unwilling prisoner. “You don’t have to do this, Dean.”

“Too late for that now.” Dean’s face was hard and he quickly looked over his brother, searching for any sign of injury. Finding none, he trained his gaze back to the black eyed bitch holding the younger hostage.

“That’s the problem with you hunters. You’re all shortsighted.”

“Yeah, at least we’re not extinct. Abaddon! I send Henry over with the box.” He pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to her. “You do the same with Sam. No tricks!” Using his hard earned skills at sleight of hand, Dean seamlessly switched the box for a simple deck of cards while appearing to place it in Henry’s jacket pocket.

“My only interest is Henry and the key. You two are free to go.”

Dean looked at Henry and gave him a push. The man didn’t move, so the hunter pulled his gun and showed it to him. “You can do this standing or you can do it crawling. Now go.”

With a last look at his grandson, Henry made his way toward Abaddon. The Knight gave a slight wave of her hand to Sam and the taller brother quickly walked away from her.

As Sam passed the other, he looked at him with guilt and remorse. “Henry, I’m sorry.”

“Save it,” was the terse reply, Henry not glancing away from the demon in front of him.

When he reached his brother, Sam held out his hands as Dean pulled out a knife and cut his bonds. “Don’t do this, Dean. It’s a bad idea.”

“Shut your mouth. Let’s go.”

Just as Henry reached Abaddon, the two turned and walked to the doors. As they neared, it suddenly shut and Dean spun around angrily.

“We had a deal!”

The demon laughed. “Surprise! I lied.” Her smile held a couple seconds more, and then twisted into a scowl. She turned quickly and plunged her hand deep into Henry’s stomach, the man grunting in surprise and pain.

“Henry!” Sam tried to run to him, but Dean held him back with an arm.

“Wait.”

Henry gathered himself and smiled slightly. “You’re not the only one.” He slipped the cuffs on his wrists, grabbed the hidden gun from his belt, and pulled the trigger underneath Abaddon’s chin. Her head snapped back with a flash of light from the demon trapped bullet.

Easily shrugging off the shot, the Knight laughed. “Whoo! What a blast. Now give me the box.” She reached into the suit’s pocket, pulling out the deck of cards. Disbelief crossed her features as she looked from Henry, who was now swaying on his feet, still smiling, to the brothers, Sam looking shocked and Dean, determined.

“WHERE IS IT?!” Her voice was unnaturally loud and had a demonic sound to it. Lightning flashed threateningly around them. “Okay. We can do this the hard way.” Abaddon gripped Henry’s chin and opened her mouth. A black smoke emerged and snaked toward the man, but was halted by a barrier inches away from his face. With another fierce look of anger, she pushed Henry away.

He collapsed bonelessly and Sam hurried to his side, lifting his grandfather up slightly and leaning him against his chest. Henry’s head lolled on his shoulder as he tried to focus, blood dripping down his chin.

Abaddon jerked in place, trying to move. “URGH!! Why am I STUCK?!” She breathed heavily, then gave a forced laugh. “You still didn’t kill me.”

Dean came at her from the side. “No, but you’ll wish we did.” Before she could react, he beheaded her with a large hunting knife. After putting the blade away, he looked down at where it had rolled. “That demon trap in your noggin is going to keep you from smoking out. We’re going to cut you into little steaks and bury each strip under cement. You may not be dead, but you’ll wish you were.”

Sam looked between the head and his brother, still surprised at what occurred. Then he gave Henry a slight shake, knowing he was losing consciousness quickly.

The Man of Letters looked back up. “You did it.”

Dean’s expression fell for a moment, before he hid it and kneeled in front of the dying man. “No, you did it. For a bookworm that wasn’t bad Henry.” Henry gave a quiet laugh in response. “Come on. We need to get you to Cas. Heal you up.”

But as Sam began to move him, the other Winchester let out a gasp of pain, causing the younger brother to still once more. “No. He’s too far out and you know I won’t make it.”

“We can still get you to him. He’s an angel, he can -”

“Dean.” The voice was weaker now. “No. This is how it’s supposed to be. If I continue to survive in this timeline, I know I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t try to go back to my son. It was always going to be this way. We all knew that.”

The hunter grit his teeth, but argued no further, and Sam looked to the floor with a saddened expression.

“I’m sorry I judged you two so harshly for being hunters.” Both brothers’ attention returned to the words spoken. “I should have known better.”

“About?” Sam questioned gently.

Henry smiled. “You’re also Winchesters. As long as we’re alive, there’s always hope. I didn’t know my son as a man.” He reached out his right hand. Dean raised his own to grip it and Sam did the same to the other hand held toward him. “But having met you two… I know I would have been proud of him.” The Man’s wavering attention focused on Dean. “You… take care of your boy. He’s special… more than you could ever know. Take care of him… like I couldn’t for John.”

Dean nodded his promise to Henry and watched as his remaining life slipped away with a quiet exhale.

* * *

 

They had buried Henry that night, and then drove straight to Sioux Falls. Back to Bobby and back to Harry. The boy greeted them both happily, chattering about the things he and his Grandpa did while they were away.

A couple moments later he paused and looked around curiously. “Daddy, where’s Henry go?”

Dean swallowed and glanced to Sam. He hadn’t wanted to do this again so soon. Wished he didn’t have to do it at all. They boy was far, _far_ too young to have to be told about death. The fact that this wasn’t the first conversation about it caused something in his chest to ache.

He sat on the couch and Harry scooted up beside him. “Henry had to go away, Harry.”

“Oh. When’s he comin’ back?”

“He can’t come back from where he went.”

Harry looked confused for just a moment, then thoughtful as he processed the words. It was much too serious an expression to be on a nearly three-year-old’s face. “He went… where Mama Lily and Daddy James is at?”

The three adults all looked surprised that the little wizard had made the connection so quickly.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

A sad look appeared on his face, but the boy threw himself at Dean and wrapped his arms around his father’s neck tightly. “It’s okay, Daddy. Cas will look after him too now.”

Sam watched the two from his position near the kitchen door and remembered Dean’s words in front of Henry’s grave.

_“All I see in our family tree is a whole lot of dead.”_

He and his brother had lost many, close friends and family alike. However, the words weren’t completely true. They still had Bobby, as much a father to them as John, and now they had Harry. It wasn’t much, but it was still family.

His thoughts drifted to the box Henry had placed in his hand, now settled in his pocket, that held the key to what could be the largest collection of supernatural knowledge in the world.

_“What are the chances that place is still standing?”_

_“A chance we’ve got to take, I guess. I mean, we are legacies, right?”_


	12. The In-between Years - Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

Dean sat in the Impala with Sam beside him in the passenger seat. His hands tightened on the steering wheel as he scowled out of the windshield at the people passing by. He was nervous, no use even trying to deny it.

Sam glanced at him. “Dean, it’s time. I know you don’t want to, but you have to do this. You’ve known it’s been coming.”

The elder brother grit his teeth and stayed silent. Just because he knew it was coming soon didn’t mean he had to like it.

The taller Winchester sighed in exasperation. “C’mon. You’re being ridiculous, man. This is how it has to be and you know it.”

“Right.” Dean relented and exited his car, walking around to open the back from the passenger side. “Let’s go, little man. Time to get this over with.”

Harry scooted over till his feet touched the ground, but didn’t get fully out of the Impala. “But Dad! I don’t wanna go! There’s gonna be rules and work and mean teachers. Why can’t Sammy keep teaching me things? I don’t need to go to school.” They little boy was full on pouting, bottom lip stuck out and everything.

Dean resisted whining "Yeah Sam, why can't you teach him?" Instead he crouched down to be eye level with the boy and parroted what his brother had been telling him for the past month. "Because this will be good for you. You've been spending too much time with us and monsters. You need to be around kids your own age – be normal for at least a little bit."

“But I don’t want to be normal! Normal’s boring.”

“At least try it out. Who knows? You might like it and make a friend. And it won’t all be work. You’ll get to make things and play on the playground during lunch. That sounds fun right?”

“I guess, kinda. But do I _really_ have to go?”

A smile quirked the corner of his lips as he huffed a laugh. “I tell you what, you go to school for a while and if you really hate it that much, we’ll talk to Sam and work something out. How’s that sound?”

Harry’s face squinched in thought, and then he nodded slowly. “Okay. For a little while.”

Dean smiled and stood back up, bringing his son with him and giving the boy a hug. “Alright. Me and Sammy’ll be right back here in a few hours to pick you up.” He put Harry down and the five-year-old took a couple steps away to hug his uncle. Just then a teacher came by and ushered him into the building.

The two Winchester brothers returned to the Men of Letters bunker that was now their main home. After the events with their grandfather, Henry, they had followed the coordinates given to them by Larry Ganem to Lebanon, Kansas. What they found was more than they ever expected. The entrance was a non-descript metal door set into the side of a hill and it certainly didn’t look like much from the outside. But when they entered, the sight that met them was shocking. Equipment probably used for tracking and communication during the organization’s prime took up the space of the circular room. Beyond that was a large library, filled with bookshelf after bookshelf of lore on almost any supernatural creature you could think of. Spread among the books are multiple weapons from knives and swords to guns of many sizes, and a large telescope sat at the far end.

Down one hallway they found living quarters. A full kitchen, restroom with a large bath and shower, four bedrooms, and an office. Dean had immediately set to making the room he chose, his own. He had never had a bedroom to call his own, and now that he had the opportunity, the brother was going to take full advantage of it. Sam had claimed to room across from his brother and they made the one beside Dean’s into a comfortable place for Harry.

A second hallway from the library showed a variety of rooms. One held achieved items, some locked in curse boxes, rare ingredients that can be used in spells and rituals, and Sam insisted the trident in the corner had to be _the_ Trident belonging to Poseidon. Further exploration over the next few weeks found a shooting range, a dungeon (“It’s not a dungeon, Dean!”) hidden behind some shelves, a large laboratory, and a garage with many vintage cars. When they discovered this, Dean nearly wet himself from excitement (according to Sam) and parked his baby among the others as soon as he got the chance.

Ganem’s claim that no evil supernatural creatures could enter the bunker seemed to be true. Every room was lined with runes and symbols, with a devil’s trap inlayed on the floor before each doorway.

Once the Winchesters had gotten used to the area, the bunker, named the Batcave by Dean, became their sanctuary and eventually their home. It wasn’t until last year that they decided it was necessary to establish themselves in the nearby town, when Harry started school, he would need an actual address and phone number to give the staff. A call to one of Bobby’s contacts set them up with a fake, but convincing address in Lebanon itself.

After a nerve-wracking conversation with Harry had gained the boy’s happy approval, Dean and Sam had taken him to be officially adopted him as Dean’s son, Harry James Potter Winchester. His Potter surname was kept in memory of his birth parents who had sacrificed so much to protect him, and because they knew that eventually the boy would return to the Wizarding world and people would be more likely to remember him there as the youngest Potter. However, in day to day life, and now at school, Harry was called Winchester, a fact that made the little boy immensely happy.

It felt odd to Dean to return to their home without Harry that morning. The brothers themselves had left often enough to go on hunts while Harry stayed with his Grandpa Bobby, but whenever either of them were back at the bunker, so was the boy. And whatever Sam said, the elder brother knew he was thinking the same thing.

Eventually the hours passed and both Sam and Dean climbed back into the Impala to get the youngest Winchester. Pulling into the pick-up lane, they saw him standing with a group of similar aged kids, a little girl in pigtails showing him a paper she had in her hands. As soon as Harry saw them, he said goodbye to the girl and ran over. Sam caught him out of his flying hug tucked him into the backseat while the boy chattered happily about his day. As soon as Dean was close enough, Harry shoved his own paper in front of his face.

“Look what I made, Daddy! See! That’s you and me and Sammy and Grandpa and Cas!”

Dean grinned as he pulled the paper further from his nose and looked at it. It was a crayon drawing of four men, mostly recognizable as his family, with a smaller figure in the middle of them. “Nuh-uh, you made this?” His son smiled happily and nodded. “Very nice, little man! We’ll have to save it and show it to Grandpa when we see him next, huh?”

The whole drive to the bunker was spent listening to Harry talk about his day at school, from his teacher, Mrs. Jones – “She’s not as mean as some, I guess.” – to his classmates – “Kasey’s annoying, she always talks and she’s not very smart. But at recess me and Joseph and David and Ivan played with the basketballs! But then Joseph and Ivan started to yell at each other and then we had to go inside. Then Brooke…”

Well, it didn’t look like Dean and Harry would have to talk about him not going to school anymore.

* * *

 

Dean stood in the kitchen, watching his frowning son at the table. “Harry, you’re not leaving the table until you eat that chicken.” The six year old had been irritable ever since Sam had left to help another hunter on a case earlier that day. It was a regular response to one of them leaving that they were used to by now and by tomorrow morning he would be back to normal, but the kid’s stubbornness was beginning to grate on Dean.

“No! I don’t want anymore and I’m not gonna eat it!”

“Harry -”

“I WON’T!” At the last word there was a loud _Bang!_ and the few strips of chicken sitting on Harry’s plate exploded, sending chunks flying all over the room. Both Dean and Harry had jumped at the sound with surprise covering their faces.

But then Harry’s expression crumpled as he grew upset, turning to his father with tears starting to fall down his cheeks. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Daddy, I didn’t mean to! I won’t do it again, promise!”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” Dean moved toward the boy, wiping tears from his face and picking chicken pieces from his hair. “I know you didn’t mean it. It’s just a little mess. Let’s get you a bath then we’ll clean it up. No harm done, okay?”

Harry was still sniffling and holding onto Dean. It was understandable the boy was upset. It wasn’t the first time strange things had happened around him, like objects floating down from out of reach, clothes changing colors, or the time he shrunk a stack of books to the size of matchboxes. But his accidental magic had never been so loud or violent, and it had obviously shocked the boy even more than it had Dean.

The little wizard was still upset by the time he went to bed and ended up in Dean’s room that night. The elder Winchester just lay down beside him, running a hand through his son’s hair and wishing there was more he could do to help.

* * *

 

There was only one time in the past five years when Dean had seriously considered bringing Harry to the closest orphanage, dropping him off, and never looking back. It was just after they had found him. He had gotten a call from Ben and went back to Lisa's to find them being attacked by a demon who was trying to get to Dean. Seeing Ben so frightened as his possessed mother held a knife to his neck, and knowing that it was because of him they were targeted... 

What was he thinking bringing Harry with them? The thought of the boy growing up with the threat of such an attack hanging over his head - of Harry standing in Ben's place, with a demon holding a knife to him and looking at Dean with wide green eyes as he watched helplessly… He couldn't stand it. The child would be far better off if they left him in the care of an orphanage. Harry was a good kid, cute, smart. He would probably be adopted quickly to a nice, normal, apple pie family, where he could have a good childhood. A safe one. One he could never have living with the Winchesters.

Of course, it was Sam who talked him out of it. They had enough experience dealing with normal people who were exposed to unnatural things they couldn't explain. Most of their reactions weren't what you would call calm and rational thinking. And if that unnatural thing came in the form of a young boy they had adopted that had moments of accidental magic? Well...  

So they kept Harry. And Dean planned. 

The last thing he wanted was for Harry to be raised as he and his brother were. No one should have their childhood taken from them like that. But he knew Harry couldn't grow like any normal child. He and Sam would never be able to truly give up hunting, it was a part of them, the only thing they really knew how to do. Dean couldn't do with Harry what he had attempted with Ben - keeping him away from anything resembling hunting. The boy would have to at least know how to protect himself, should anything supernatural decide to follow them home. However, there was a fine line between teaching him about the nasties in the dark and how to defend against them, and training him to hunt. It was a line Dean sincerely hoped he would never cross. 

“Can I help?”

Dean looked up at the six, almost seven year old in front of him, innocently asking if he could help clean the massive amount of deadly weapons laid out on the table. The hunter desperately wondered just where that line was. 

“Not today, little man. I’m almost done. I think Sammy could use some help organizing the new books, though.”


	13. The In-between Years - Sam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

After staying in the hidden bunker of the Men of Letters for a couple years, Sam was able to proudly announce he had managed to properly record and organize the entirety of its extensive library. In doing so, it was inevitable that he would come across some very interesting things. 

For example, there was apparently a list of supernatural creatures deemed to be not a threat to humanity and therefore against the societies’ code to harm. It included unicorns (yes, they were in fact real), dodos (not extinct! They just have the ability to vanish when threatened and were also known as a diricawl), and a thing called a mooncalf that was responsible for the geometric shapes appearing in fields that got blamed on aliens, along with many other creatures and beings he had never heard of. Not that that was surprising. Everything he was taught focused on killing things that killed humans. If they weren't harming humans, there would have been no reason for his father to be aware of their existence. 

By comparing some of the books to those liberated from Harry's old home, he found more surprising tidbits of information. Including the fact that there was apparently more than one breed of werewolves. And the "dragons" he and Dean had faced shortly after regaining his soul were far from the real deal. Turned out they were from a group of humans who had tried to improve themselves using properties of dragons, and had instead formed into a part-human-part-fire-wielding-lizard thing and in turn could only be killed the same way a real dragon could. 

When going through what looked to have been an office, Sam discovered several official looking, leather bound books. Each of these detailed a part of the Men of Letters. One was a rule book of sorts and held their laws. Another held agreements the society had made with various other groups, including the one made with hunters about exchanging information and a section about their exchanges with the magical societies Harry was to join. When Sam had shown Dean his find, the elder had merely scoffed and repeated his usual about how Sammy would have felt right at home with the nerds these guys must have been. But Sam knew that Dean was just as fascinated as he with the proof of their heritage. That he felt pride over the fact that he came from a family that was a part of something as sophisticated and important as the Men of Letters must have been in its prime. That he was a legacy.

Sam also knew that Dean struggled with the decision of how to raise Harry in this world of magic and monsters without turning him into a hunter, like their father had done with them. So using the newly gained information, he created a sort of study plan for the boy and incorporated the information found in the Potter's magic books. 

He decided to let his brother make the decisions involving Harry’s physical and weapon training. It was very early that the brothers had made sure the young boy knew not to mess with any weapons stashed around the house, but now that Harry was older, seven as of a couple months ago, Dean was teaching him how to properly handle them in case of an emergency.

To most normal families the thought of letting such a young child even close to the potentially dangerous objects was horrifying, but given their lifestyle, it was undoubtedly necessary. And even these lessons were much slower than the ones John had put the Winchester brothers through. By the time Sam was Harry’s age, his father had them both running homemade obstacle courses until they dropped from exhaustion or got injured more than a few scratches and bruises. Dean would be given a gun to shoot at targets throughout them, while Sam used a fake until he was eight.

Dean also begun to teach the little wizard some basics of fighting. Only simple stuff like how to fall without hurting himself and stand properly. For practice, they merely play wrestled around the open floor, Dean making it into a game. Sometimes Sam would join in, just to help the boy win over his father every once in a while, and Harry loved it.

Since Harry was getting the hang of reading, Sam decided to begin teaching him more about supernatural lore. It had surprised both the Winchesters just how quickly the wizard could pick up knowledge. Before he had even begun school at age five, Harry had been reading children’s books and sounding out words he didn’t know. Now at seven, Sam kept catching him trying to sneak books out of the library to read, ones that even older children would have a hard time understanding. To prevent him from getting his little fingers on a book he shouldn’t, Sam had sorted out a small pile the brother deemed safe enough for the boy to flip through – simple stuff about the most basic of supernatural creatures.

“Really? You’ll let me read all that!” Harry looked at the books excitedly. He had always been a curious kid, and now that he was getting permission, Sam supposed the boy was ready to get his hands on the books.

“Yep. It’s all yours kid.” Sam pushed them toward his nephew some. Harry reached out the take them, but paused when he continued. “But only if you stop trying to pick out books yourself. You only read what I give you. A lot of this stuff you aren’t quite ready for yet and some of it could even be dangerous.”

Harry gave a slight pout at this. “I’m not little no more. Dad says I’m getting strong _and_ I’m the best one in school.”

The tallest Winchester chuckled a bit. “I know, Harry. You are getting bigger and smarter, but there’s still things you need to learn before you get to the other stuff. Give it some time and you’ll get there eventually.” He tapped the books a couple times. “This is where you start. So, you promise to follow what I say?”

“Mmhm. Promise!” The wizard gave an eager nod in agreement.

Sam smiled. “Alright. Get started on these and come to me if you need help. Once you finish one of the books, tell me and we’ll talk about it, okay?”

“Yep!” Harry grabbed the books under one arm and reached out to give his uncle a hug. “Thanks Sammy!” With that, he disappeared down the hallway to his room to get started.

* * *

 

Sam gave a slight groan and put a hand to his head. Images flashed through is mind, hazy until parts of them became so clear, it was like he was there now. Some of it was just short bursts of hunting trips or conversations with who he knew to be the Campbells. But most of it was horrible moments of fire and ice cold, of knives, chains, agony, cruel, mocking laughter, and _“Sam, please!! Make them STOP!”_

“Sammy!”

The hunter blinked his eyes open slightly, head still pounding and feeling faint. His skin tingled with half-remembered pain and he couldn’t stop the harsh shiver that wracked through him. Dean stood in front of him, hands firmly on his shoulders and helping him to stay upright. His brother looked at him in deep concern and tried to get him to focus, but it was hard and the images were coming back.

“C’mon Sammy. Let’s lay you down and I’ll call Cas to fix you up again. Easy now, stay with me. Don’t make me have to carry your giant ass.”

The younger brother was only vaguely aware of Dean’s guiding hands and being gently pushed down onto a bed. Fire and agony and his half-brother’s pleas mixed together with Dean’s soothing touches and words for an unknown amount of time.

Then a hand covered his eyes, the headache and images stopped, and he gratefully sank into blissful darkness.

When he woke a few hours later, Sam knew immediately what had happened. He continued to lie in his bed for a while more, numbly going over the newly recovered memories.

Over the past six years, episodes such as this weren’t uncommon. No matter how hard he tried to follow Death’s orders not to scratch at the wall in his soul, sometimes things slipped through the cracks. It was only thanks to Cas that it hadn’t fallen completely. Whenever the images would flood through his mind, the angel would halt the flow and patch up the wall. That was all he could do though – patch it up. There was no way to completely fix him or get rid of the memories he gained each time. They were dulled though, nothing like the clarity when he first receives them – more like memories of a dream – and he was able to move on with his daily life.

And that’s what he did. After a few more moments, Sam pushed aside the thoughts of Hell and slowly rose from the bed. He could faintly hear talk coming from the bunker’s library, so he made his way over to join his family.

It seemed Bobby had come for a visit, as he was sitting at the large middle table, flipping through a thick, old book. Harry and Dean sat at the couch added a couple years ago, and were watching TV. All three looked up at his entrance and Harry ran over to him with a smile. The hug he gave the tallest Winchester was careful, so Dean had told him about his episode.

“You’re awake! Was it the bad memories again?” The boy had a worried look on his face, so Sam smiled down at him and ruffled his wild black hair.

“It was, but thanks to Cas, I’m alright now.” He looked back up and saw Dean was still looking at him worriedly. Sam gave a nod in reassurance, and his brother’s face relaxed slightly.

Harry smiled at him again and stepped back a bit. “Good! Dinner’s almost ready and I helped make the mashed potatoes.” Sam let the boy lead him into the kitchen and Dean followed soon after.

The memories from his time spent soulless and the 160 years of Hell were honestly horrible to deal with, and at times he didn’t know if he could survive a lifetime of reliving these moments at random intervals. But he knew somehow, he would. Because he was a Winchester, and as long as he had his family, Sam would go through anything to be there when they needed him.


	14. The In-between Years - Bobby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

The old wooden chair gave a loud creak as Bobby Singer sat back into it with an irritated sigh. Some dumbass rookie had gotten himself into some trouble with a family of pissed off ghouls without even knowing what the things were. Bobby had managed to get him some last minute back-up in time to save his stupid ass. How the hell did he get his phone number anyway? Garth was probably handing it out again. Idjit.

The old hunter took off his cap, scratched his head a bit, and then replaced it as he looked through the open doorway toward the boy sitting at his desk. Harry had been dropped off here yesterday morning after the boys went out to take care of what looked to be a couple shapeshifters. Currently, he was flipping steadily through an old book, written in ancient Greek, if he remembered right.

It wasn’t as if the kid could actually read it, but ever since a couple months ago, Harry had shown great interest in learning the languages that Bobby regularly translated for various hunters. He wasn’t sure what sparked the sudden urge, but the boy had walked right up to him one day and asked that he teach him. Confused, but willing to do so, Bobby had started teaching him basic Latin to appease him, as well as showing him how to recognize the languages most often found in his old lore books.

He had to admit, the kid was sharp. As much as Sam was at that age, if not more so. Everything Bobby taught him was absorbed and remembered, and already Harry had a good basis on the language.

After watching for a bit, an idea came to him and Bobby made his way upstairs. It took a bit of searching through one of the storage rooms, but eventually he found what he was looking for. Going back to the living room, he knocked his knuckles on the desk where Harry was sitting, causing the boy’s head to look up quickly, startled by the noise.

A smile twitched at his mouth. “C’mon kid.”

Harry blinked a couple times, before grinning and following after his grandfather.

“Where are we going?” he asked as Bobby started up the truck.

“We’ll get there soon enough.”

“That’s not an answer.” Bobby just chuckled at his pout.

When they finally pulled up at the only park in Sioux Falls, Harry watched confused as Bobby got out and walked toward the open grass with something clutched in his hand. Jumping out and running after him, the wizard barely managed to catch the brown mitt tossed to him.

Bobby smiled at him. “You’re already too smart for your own good. Time to get out of those books for a bit and be a kid.”

“But I like those books!” Harry laughed and caught the baseball thrown his way.

* * *

 

Bobby waited off to the side as 9 year old Harry slipped from the passenger side of the rusty old truck. The two were in town that day, running errands. They were on the last stop at a little store that sold some of the more common ingredients used in the hunter’s spells. Suddenly, the boy beside him paused, grabbing a hold of his jacket sleeve and looking toward the other side of the street. Bobby looked that way as well, but they were the only ones around, except for a few scattered about further down the road.

“What is it kid?”

The little wizard looked unsure. “There’s a man. He’s watching us… watching me.”

The old hunter tensed at this and slowly reached for his gun. “Where is he, Harry? What’s he look like?”

“He… he’s wearing a suit and has – He’s coming over!”

Before Bobby could react, Harry gave a gasp and was focused on something directly in front of them. Pulling the kid behind him, the hunter aimed his gun where he guessed the invisible creature to be.

“W-what are you?” Harry questioned. Bobby paused momentarily to see if there was some response. “… a reaper?”

The old man was stunned. How in the hell could the boy see and speak to a reaper? As far as he knew, only the dead should be able to.

“I – a gift?” Bobby focused on the only side of the conversation he could hear, still prepared to act should it become necessary. “… what plane of existence?” Another pause and Harry’s eyes widened. “You’re not here to…” A beat of silence, then Harry relaxed. Moments later he turned back to Bobby. “He’s gone grandpa.”

The old hunter sighed and put away his gun before any pedestrians noticed it. “Christ, boy. You gonna stop throwing out surprises anytime soon?” The kid stayed silent so Bobby just shook his head and began leading them back to the old truck. “C’mon. Let’s get a hold of your daddy and his wayward angel and see if we can’t find out what the hell that was about.”

Back at the house, all three Winchesters were sitting on the couch, the youngest squished in between the two brothers. Bobby sat behind his desk and Castiel stood off to the side, obviously thinking over what had just been said.

“It seems,” the angel began slowly, “that when I removed the taint from his soul, my grace affected him in such a way that it gave him the… vision of an angel, so to speak.”

“Meaning?” Dean questioned, the others looking curious as well.

“So far we know he can see past my vessel, to my true form, and do the same to demons. He can also see and interact with reapers. All of which reside on the plane of existence between life and death. Angels are able to view this plane, and I believe this ability was transferred to Harry. I would guess that if you were to test it, the boy would also be able to view ghosts, hellhounds, and other such supernatural creatures that are only visible on that plane.”

A moment of surprised silence filled the room, and then Sam turned to Harry.

“What exactly did the reaper say, Harry?”

The boy bit his lip and gave a slight shrug. “Not much, really. I guess he just noticed me looking at him and came over. Said he’d never seen a human with a… gift like mine. Then said he wasn’t here to take either of our souls and needed to… get back to his duties.”

Harry was looking between them all uncertainly, as if he didn’t know what to think of this new ability of his. Dean and Sam exchanged a look over his head, then the elder slung an arm over his son’s shoulders, pulling him to his side.

“Well, vision of an angel, huh? That’ll probably come in handy later.”

Harry looked up toward his father’s smile, and slowly returned it, laughing when Dean mussed his hair.

* * *

 

While Bobby parked his truck in the spot in the bunker’s garage that he’d claimed for himself, Sam shut and relocked the large door behind him. Just as he got out and slammed his door closed, he heard running steps coming down the room. The old hunter turned in time to see a dark haired boy before Harry wrapped his arms around him in a hug.

“Grandpa, you’re here! Merry Christmas!”

Bobby gave a smile and patted his grandson on the back. “Hey, kiddo. Merry Christmas.”

The boy pulled away with a large grin and gave his jacket sleeve a couple tugs. “C’mon! Me and Sammy set up the tree and Dad’s making the ham for lunch and Cas just got here, too!” Harry took off back up the stairs to the main room without waiting for the other two.

Sam came up behind him and clapped a hand on his shoulder with a laugh. “Hey, Bobby. Nice to see you.”

“You too, boy. Heard the two of you got into some trouble with a couple demons, few days ago.”

The Winchester huffed a laugh. “Nah, we handled it just fine and got out with barely a scratch.” They began walking towards the stairs after Bobby grabbed a box from the back of his truck. “Dean’s working on lunch right now. Should be done pretty soon.”

“Still don’t know where that boy learned to cook like he does with how the two of you lived off SpaghettiOs, cereal, and PB&J your whole childhood. Won’t find me complaining, though.”

The library-slash-living room had a couple strings of lights along its ceiling and in the corner by the couch and TV stood a decent sized fake Christmas tree, covered in a variety of decorations and lights. Castiel was sat on the couch with Harry next to him, both watching A Christmas Story intently. Bobby set his box under the tree with the rest of the small pile and sat in the only armchair to join them.

It wasn’t too much longer before Dean came out and proudly announced that lunch was ready. The four sat at the table loaded with food worthy of any family Christmas lunch as Sam brought out the ham and took the spot next to Harry. Bobby noticed Dean grinning at them smugly as everyone obviously enjoyed the food he made and decided to entertain himself by making a show of picking at the potatoes and green bean casserole with a frown to annoy him. Even Castiel tried the food after some prodding by the Winchesters and announced that the flavor was pleasurable despite him being able to taste the individual molecules that made it up. After, Dean excitedly brought out no less than three different pies for dessert and Bobby wondered why he expected anything different.

As soon as his father put his last bite of pie in his mouth, Harry declared it time to open presents and darted out of the kitchen. The brothers and Bobby settled on the couch and armchair with glasses of overly spiked eggnog and let Harry pass out the pile of presents, before he tore through his own enthusiastically.

Bobby settled back in his chair with his gift from the Winchesters, a bottle of top-notch whiskey, and watched the small group enjoy themselves. One of the brothers had given Harry a couple of Nerf guns, so Sam and the kid were currently having a shoot off in the middle of the library with Dean cheering them on.

It was only the five of them together for Christmas, and the old hunter couldn’t help the ache he felt as he thought of those who could have been with them if they hadn’t met their untimely ends. He also knew it was unlikely either of the Winchester brothers would find a girl to settle down with any time soon. After that Lisa woman and her boy, Dean had never shown anymore interest to building a family besides Harry and his brother. Sam on the other hand had gotten in a pretty serious relationship with a girl in the next town over, named Kelsey if he remembered right. They’d gone steady for nearly a year, but Sam had refused to tell her of his real job as a hunter in fear of bringing her into something she wasn’t ready for and putting her in danger. Eventually, they’d grown distant because of it and broke it off.

Suddenly, a Nerf dart shot directly in his ear and the old hunter made a show of huffing and grumbling as Harry ran away laughing. Bobby smiled as the boy attacked his father instead. The family may be small, but they had each other, they had friends that they could depend on, and that was enough.


	15. The In-between Years - Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

Castiel sat fidgeting on a bench in his favorite section of Heaven – an eternal, sunny Tuesday afternoon of an autistic man who drowned in a bathtub in 1953. Balthazar, who had joined his cause years ago and was now his most trusted advisor and friend, sighed irritably beside him.

“Honestly Cassie, I don’t see why you’re even bothering. Of all the things you could be worrying about right now, what to get a human boy for his birthday isn’t very high on the list.”

“I didn’t expect the decision to be so difficult.”

Harry Winchester’s 10th birthday party was to be held in exactly 6 hours and 27 minutes at the small park in Lebanon, Kansas, near the duck pond. Before Harry, Castiel had never participated in birthday parties. With the near immortal lifespan of angels, celebrating single year of living was unnecessary. However, he had always made an effort to appear on the anniversary of Harry’s birth, knowing it made the child happy.

In the past years, he would always visit in the evening, after any other guests had left, and his gifts were ones Dean or Sam had informed him the boy would enjoy. But he had gathered that 10 years was something of a milestone in human lives and therefore more important. Because of this, Castiel had decided to be a part of the party and choose a gift for Harry on his own.

He was regretting that decision.

“Get him a pet. Human kids are always asking for pets.”

“Dean has already ruled out any animals as gifts.”

“Then just pop down and pick him out a shiny rock or something. Like Alexandrite.”

“What would a 10 year old boy do with a precious stone from Russia?”

“… It changes color depending on the lighting. That’s pretty neat.” The other angel put on an annoyed face. “Oh, I don’t know! Why are you asking me anyway? How am I supposed to know what a human kid would want?”

“I didn’t ask you.”

Balthazar let out a sigh. “Whatever. Just hurry up and pick something already. It’s ridiculous how much time you’re spending stressing over this. Even I’m starting to get anxious about it! And really, I have much better things to be doing with my time.”

With that, his friend flew off and Castiel let out a sigh of his own. Leaning back and relaxing slightly more into the bench, he let his eyes wander absently over the green park and bright blue sky in front of him. As usual the man who resided in this Heaven was happily standing in the middle of the clearing, flying his kite in the perfect breeze.

After a few minutes more, a slight smile formed on the angel’s face. Moments later, he too was gone, returning once more to Earth.

When he appeared on the far side of the grassy area that passed for a park at 11:30 am, he could already see the three Winchesters and Bobby Singer moving around the only picnic table by the little pond. Dean and Bobby were setting up a grill for lunch, Sam seemed to be greeting a couple who just arrived, and Harry was running around with two other children. When he noticed Castiel, the boy looked surprised to see him for a moment, then ran over with a large smile.

“Cas!” Harry was breathing hard from the running, but almost buzzing with excitement. “You came early today!”

Castiel smiled at him in return. “Yes. I’ve never been to a birthday party, and yours seemed like a good enough one to attend.”

The now 10 year old laughed and led him over to the other adults. He was greeted by the Winchesters and introduced as a family friend to the unknown parents. The gift he got for Harry was set to the side of the table and Dean sent him a curious look, obviously wondering what he had eventually decided on getting, but the angel ignored him.

Over the next few minutes four more children arrived, along with their parents or guardians, most of which stayed for the party. The next hour or so passed rather slowly to Castiel. Dean monitored the burgers and hot dogs on the grill while fighting with Sam over what station played on the radio and Castiel attempted to make semi-awkward conversation with the gathered parents. Despite more than a decade spent knowing the Winchesters, the finer points of human conversation and interaction still eluded him.

One of the single mothers in particular kept looking at him and laying her hand on his arm and Castiel was wondering if she had something in her eye with how much she was blinking. The strange behavior made him vaguely uncomfortable. A glance at Sam during one of these moments showed the tallest brother smirking knowingly at him and it finally clicked that the woman was attempting to be flirtatious. He gave a quick excuse and moved to stand beside Dean until the food was ready and _no he was not hiding, Dean, why are you laughing?_

Lunch passed, followed shortly by cake, and then all the children were gathering around Harry and insisting that it was time to open presents. The angel paid close attention during this, taking note of what the youngest Winchester had gotten and his reactions to the gifts, still inexplicably anxious that he had chosen something the boy would not like. Finally, the long, blue, meticulously wrapped package was put in front of Harry. The paper was torn off, and Castiel felt relief at Harry’s large smile when he saw what it was.

“A kite!” Harry lifted it up to show his family. “I’ve never had a kite before! Think we can fly it today?” As soon as the question was asked, a light breeze began blowing. Harry glanced up at the sky briefly, before sending the angel a knowing and grateful smile. “Thanks Cas! It’s great!”

Sam had disappeared a bit ago and now returned with a large plastic crate overflowing with water balloons. Immediately, the younger brother chunked one at the back of Dean’s head to a chorus of laughter from the children and parents. The elder retaliated by rubbing a handful of cake icing into Sam’s long hair, the kids descended on the balloons, and everything spiraled into chaos from there.

A couple hours later, Harry was waving goodbye to his last friend and the Winchester brothers were clearing up the remaining food and trash, while Bobby relaxed nearby and directed their efforts. Castiel was helping, but stopped when birthday boy walked up to him, carrying his new kite.

“Cas, will you teach me to fly it before we leave?”

The angel smiled at his hopeful expression and took the kite from him. “Of course. It needs to be assembled first.”

When it was finished, Harry held it out with wide eyes. “It’s huge!” The kite was indeed large. It was shaped like a brightly colored bird and the wingspan was at least a foot longer than Harry was tall.

A small push of his grace had the wind picking up a bit more, and the kite was flying high within minutes. Adjusting Harry’s grip on the spool of string to better control the bird’s path, Castiel thought that maybe he’d come by for the next birthday party as well.

* * *

 

Castiel wasn’t sure when exactly it started, but apparently he had been inadvertently teaching Harry enochian for some months now. Years if you counted the times when Harry had been younger and pointed out seemingly random objects and asked for the translation in the language of angels.

Currently seated at the main table within the Bunker’s library, the angel was drawing out the symbols found in the basic angel-proof warding known by the Winchesters. The little wizard was beside him, focused entirely on the pictures and his words as he explained as simply as possible the complex meaning and use of each mark.

He couldn’t honestly say that Harry’s reason for wanting to learn had surprised him at all. At Bobby’s request, Castiel had made the old hunter’s panic room angel-proof with a more permanent warding than what the hunters could just paint on the walls. The type favored by Crowley’s demons and invisible to human sight. With one small exception it would seem.

“They look like they glow in the dark. Sometimes I don’t get how no one else can see them, they’re so bright.” Harry had been fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he talked, nervous about a rejection as Castiel now knew. “Dad and Sam don’t let me go with them on cases, yet. I don’t think they _ever_ want me to go, actually, but someday I want to and I just thought that since I can see some things that no one else can, I could learn what they mean and it might be useful on a case in the future, and that way I could actually _help_ and not just read books or answer the phone or – well…” The boy had been blushing by this point and was intently studying his shoes. “I just… thought it might help…”

The angel wasn’t sure how the Winchesters would feel about their youngest’s reasoning, but as he figured out very long ago, Castiel found it difficult to say “no” when any of his favorite humans asked something of him. The teachings were a slow process, both due to its complexity and the fact that most of Castiel’s time was required in Heaven. But Harry proved to be quite a quick study for a human child, and the angel realized he enjoyed being able to teach something so close to himself and his home.

* * *

 

“Hey, Cas? When I die… will I go to Heaven?”

Castiel looked at the young boy in surprise. The Winchesters were gone, on a hunt with Bobby Singer, and the angel had offered to keep an eye on the boy until the next morning when Sheriff Jody Mills would arrive at the Bunker and watch him for the next few days.

“Why would you question such a thing, Harry?”

“Dad and Sam and Grandpa… they only hunt supernatural creatures, right?”

The angel furrowed his brow in confusion. “Yes. They do so to protect the humans that would otherwise fall prey to those creatures. You know this.”

“So, they hunt witches, too. I’ve read about them. They’re humans who make agreements with demons for magic. But they’re still human, right? Dad said creature souls don’t go to Heaven and witches go to the same place the creatures go. I – I can use magic. Witches might get it a different way than I do, but I can use magic, so I’m like them, aren’t I? If witches can’t go to Heaven than how can I? Won’t I end up in the same place monsters do?”

Harry sounded genially frightened and upset, and Castiel wondered how long these questions had been plaguing the boy. These past couple years, it had become less likely that Harry would run to him for a hug, or climb in his lap, or stroke the feathers of his wings, and Castiel knew it was because as Harry grew older, he viewed these actions as childish. But Harry was nearly in tears at the moment, and the angel couldn’t help but step forward to wrap his arms around the little Winchester and fold his wings over them both. Harry leaned his forehead on the angel’s chest, one hand lifting to run fingers through the black feathers surrounding them.

“You are no monster, Harry. Your soul is as human as any of your family. The magic used by the witches your father speaks of is very different than your own. Over time that magic, barrowed from demons, twists and taints their human soul and in the end, they are no more human than a vampire or werewolf once was. The energy you have the ability to harness originates from within yourself. It is already a part of you and in no way will it change who you are.” He gave a short pause as Harry pulled back slightly and looked up at him. “When you die, your soul shall travel to Heaven and you will spend the rest of eternity with your friends and family, both the Winchesters and the Potters. This I promise you.”

Harry gave a slightly teary smile and tucked his head back into the angel’s chest.

“Thanks, Cas.”


	16. 1st Year - First Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

As the calendar on the wall drew closer to mid July, a sense of nervous anticipation had begun settling in the home of the Winchesters. In less than two weeks, Harry Winchester would be turning eleven, and they all knew that was the age young witches and wizards were to begin attending a magic school. But none of them knew when the school year would begin, where it was located, how they would learn this information, or any number of other important details. It was all of these uncertainties that was causing Sam to spend even more time exercising or cataloging new information into the Men of Letters’ database, and Dean to methodically clean the entirety of his weapons collection for the third time in two weeks, and Harry to bury himself even more in his language and supernatural lore studies.

Finally, Dean had had enough and declared they were all going to go crazy just sitting around in the Bunker, waiting for something to happen, and that they all needed to get out for a while. The brothers didn’t think it was a good idea to pick up any cases, just in case something _did_ happen soon, so the small family decided to pack up and take a trip to Bobby’s for the next few days. Driving his Baby had always had a relaxing effect on Dean, and the normal routine of bickering over the radio, light conversation, and the endless rolling scenery of fields and pastures did the same for the other two.

Though he wasn’t quite as tall as his brother, even Dean was glad for the chance to get out and stretch his legs at the end of the nearly six hour drive. Harry of course popped out of the back without a problem, and ran to the back of the house with a large smile where they could hear Bobby in the barn, probably working on some rust bucket car or another.

“Grandpa!”

Dean followed at a slower pace with Sam, and watched his son give the old hunter a quick hug, making a face at the oil stains and likely stench of sweat.

“Hey kiddo.” Bobby looked up at their approach. “’Bout time you got here. Jody should be over soon with dinner.”

The wizard made a face again. “You’re gonna eat dinner like that? You stink!”

Bobby gave a lazy swat toward him, but Harry ducked out of reach with a grin while the brothers laughed. The hunter frowned at the three of them and huffed. “Go on and get inside, ya idjits. I’ll follow in a bit.”

Harry started walking backward toward the back door of the house. “To shower, I hope!” The boy spun around to run inside, but stopped suddenly and put his hands over his head, when some kind of bird swooped down toward him. Dean thought it was an owl – _in the middle of the day?_ – but his focus quickly changed to the letter his son had automatically caught when it was dropped on him.

Harry looked at it in confusion for a split second, but his eyes quickly widened and his expression turned to surprise and fear. “Dad? It’s stuck! I can’t -!”

In a blink, the boy disappeared.

There was a moment where the hunters stood frozen in shocked disbelief, but it quickly passed, instincts kicking in.

“Harry!” Dean rushed to the spot the wizard stood seconds before, useless though it seemed.

His brother followed and spun on the spot, searching the ground and sky for something, _anything_ , that would explain what had happened. “What the hell?!”

“ _Fuck!_ ” Dean closed his eyes and pulled a hand through his hair. His son was gone, taken _somehow_ from right in front of him, by _something_ or _someone_ and they had _no clue_ why or where he could be. He stopped the pacing he hadn’t even realized he started, and forced himself down from what was quickly turning into panic. Taking a breath, he looked up. “Cas! We’re at Bobby’s and we need you! Harry’s gone and we don’t know where -”

“I’m here.” The angel walked over to them, a concerned expression on his face. Bobby was right behind him, hurrying from the barn. “What happened?”

“We just got here when this owl flew at Harry with – the owl!” Dean looked around quickly, but the bird was nowhere to be seen. “Son of a bitch! The damn bird dropped some kind of letter on him, and he grabbed it. Said it was stuck to him, before he just disappeared!”

Castiel walked a few steps around the area, seemingly studying it. “I am not familiar enough with the energy that took him to follow its path to its destination. However, it’s nothing demonic.”

“You said it was an owl?” Sam asked. The elder Winchester nodded and a look of realization crossed the younger’s face. “The Potter’s books - one of them mentioned they use owls for communication, for carrying post! You think it was sent by them, some wizard or witch, to find Harry and bring him to that magic school, Hogwarts or whatever?”

Dean scowled. “Whatever the reason, if they think they’re just gonna snatch my kid and expect me to let him step a foot in any magic school afterwards, they got another thing -”

“Wait.” The Winchesters fell silent and looked to the angel. His head was slightly tilted and his eyes were unfocused, as if he was listening to something. “Harry is praying to me.” All three hunters waited tensely for him to continue. “… He is unharmed, but does not know where he is. He’s describing his surroundings…” Castiel blinked and focused back on his present company. “I will search for him and return as soon as I know his location.”

A quick sound of wings, the stirring of air, and the angel was gone.

Almost immediately, Dean set off back to the impala.

“Dean?” Sam questioned, following after him with Bobby. His only answer was the elder unlocking the trunk and lifting the false bottom. He took the gun Dean handed him and watched the other secure the demon knife to his side.

Bobby was watching them from the side. “So what are you going to do? Pop in there, guns blazing, as soon as Cas gets back? You forget they have magic?”

“Still human aren’t they?” was the only response, the other hunter checking his ammo and passing some to Sam.

“I’m just saying, don’t be stupid about it.” The older hunter frowned at the two. “I get they took the boy, I’m just as worried as you are, but it’s not gonna help him if you two idjits get yourselves killed because you reacted without thinking.”

“He’s right.” Sam looked at his brother, but despite his words, he still readied his weapon and grabbed a knife of his own. “We know some things about them, but we don’t know everything that they’re capable of. It’d be better if we try to talk to them first. Maybe this is some kind of misunderstanding.”

Dean stilled, leaning over the trunk with his head hung down and hands braced on the edge. Then he sighed and closed it. “Yeah, I get it. Nothing we can do till Cas gets here anyway.”

The minutes passed slowly, and all three were tense and restless. When the angel finally reappeared, they looked at him expectantly.

“I have found him. He is at a Wizarding Inn located in London, England with four magic users.”

“Alright.” Dean nodded and looked toward the angel, gesturing to his brother. “You’ll take me and Sam to this Inn. As soon as we get there you grab Harry and bring him back here, then fly back to us. But stay hidden when you do. If we can talk our way out of this, it’d be best if they knew as little about you as possible and couldn’t try to question you.” His gaze shifted to Bobby then. “You wait here for Harry and take him to the panic room when Cas drops him off. I don’t know if it’ll keep them out if they somehow followed, but it’s better than nothing.” He adjusted his grip on the gun, touched the knife at his side, and nodded to the angel. “Let’s go, Cas.”

Castiel put a hand on each of the brother’s shoulders, and took off.

* * *

 

In a room warded for privacy on the third floor of the Leaky Cauldron, Albus Dumbledore was waiting anxiously along with Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin. Almost ten years of searching and planning and finally the target was in sight. 

Since that fateful Halloween night in 2011, years and resources had been wasted searching throughout Europe and Asia, and then Africa, Australia, and South America, before it was concluded that the Boy-Who-Was-Lost and their only hope for permanently ridding the world of Voldemort, was somewhere in the wilds of North America. The headmaster and his comrades could only guess at what creatures or Wizarding criminals had gotten their hands on Harry Potter to be able to hide him for so long, or what state the boy would be in when he was finally found. If he was indeed alive. But no, Albus couldn't allow that thought. So much rested on the fact that the Potter boy lived at least long enough to finish Voldemort. It was unthinkable that the prophecy given to him by Sybil would be rendered useless by the boy's death. He already had his suspicions that the boy would have to die in the end, but an early death would do no one any good. 

Some effort was given to searching through America for the boy, but as expected, it proved fruitless. In the end it was decided the most likely way to locate him would be to use the magic of Hogwarts to their advantage. Each year, the magic created by the early headmasters of Hogwarts located the children that had the potential to attend the school, and produced an acceptance letter for each. The nature of the spell insured the letter would always be delivered and only go to the child in question.

With this in mind, Albus had taken the letter created for Harry Potter and turned it into a portkey, set to activate on touch and bring the person here, to the Leaky Cauldron. The owl carrying the letter had been set loose in the approximate center of the continent and the four had settled in to wait.

Six days had passed. Albus didn't know if it was distance or some spell hiding the boy that was the cause for delay, but finally the portkey had been delivered. All four of the waiting adults had been alerted the exact moment the boy had touched the parchment, and with seconds to spare, had apparated into the designated room.

Suddenly, a young boy appeared in the center of the room and fell to the ground, unable to keep his balance after the unexpected transportation. Then he was hurriedly standing up and taking in his surroundings, dropping the letter like it burned to touch. Albus studied the boy and was glad to see it could be no other than Harry Potter. The resemblance to his father was great, despite the lack of glasses, and the green of his eyes were a match to Lily's. His clothes were obviously muggle and he seemed to be in surprisingly good health.

The boy immediately turned his attention to the four in front of him and took a defensive stance, backing as far away as possible. "Who are you? What do you want? Why'd you bring me here?"

Albus stepped forward with a gentle smile. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. My associates are Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin. We've been searching for you for quite some time, my boy."

"You've been looking for me? Why?"

"I am the headmaster of a school called Hogwarts. It is a very special school that we would like for you to attend. You see, we are wizards and witches. We have the ability to use magic." He let his smile grow slightly as he took a small step towards the boy. "You are a wizard as well, Harry. And at Hogwarts, you could learn all the wonders of magic and our world."

The boy's reaction to his words was certainly not the one he was expecting. "I already know I'm a wizard. I know about magic and I know about Hogwarts. Being kidnapped isn't really how I expected to be invited to attend, though."

No no! This was all wrong! There was no wide eyed wonder at the existence of magic or the expected gratefulness at being liberated from his previous home and given the chance to escape from it into a magical new world. Instead the boy seemed quite upset at his new change of location and was currently... muttering under his breath? 

At this point, Lupin seemed unable to hold back any longer and was hesitantly stepping forward. 

"Harry?" The boy's attention focused on the werewolf and his green eyes narrowed. "My name is Remus Lupin. I - I was a close friend of your parents. When I learned you were missing, I spent many years trying to find you. I'm very glad to see you again and that you seem to have been taken care of."

"My boy, if I may ask," Albus cut in, "who - or _what_ \- took you from us that night? They must have been very powerful to have kept you hidden for so long."

Harry frowned at him in confusion and annoyance. "They aren't creatures and they aren't wizards. And they didn't take or _hide_ me. My family found me in my destroyed house the night my parents were killed. After a few years, they adopted me when no one came looking for me. I know I'm a wizard because they found books in the house that told them about magic and Hogwarts."

Remus spoke up again. "But you're safe? And you're happy?"

Harry turned to the man once more and seemed to study him for a moment before relaxing slightly and responding. "Yeah. Yeah, I am." Then the boy looked back to the old wizard and the professors standing behind him. "I don't know how happy my dad and uncle are going to be about letting me go to Hogwarts now, though." He started frowning once more. "You know, with the whole magically kidnapping me and everything." 

The headmaster gave his gentle smile once more. "I'm sure the muggles can be convinced it would be in your best interest to attend. If not, there are ways to insure an agreement can be -"

He was abruptly cut off when three men appeared close to the boy. The two taller ones raised their muggle weapons and Harry gave a surprised shout of "Dad!" before the third grabbed his upper arm and disappeared with him, just as quickly as he had come. 

Albus subtly reached for his wand in his robe, and knew the others were doing the same around him, but an ominous click sounded from the shorter man's metal weapon and the thing was pointed at his head. "Nuh uh. Don't even think about it, old man."

The other one had his turned on Severus, who was sneering at him disdainfully, and was watching both him and Minerva closely. "Look, we're willing to talk, if this was some kind of misunderstanding. Know we're not too happy right now, though. So whatever your reasons for taking Harry, they better be damn good."

"You must be the ones who have watched over Harry until now." They were obviously muggles. Who had the third man been, however? His method of transport wasn't one Albus was familiar with, and the room should have been warded sufficiently enough to insure their location couldn't be found. "We have been looking for him for quite some time. Harry mentioned you already have knowledge of Hogwarts? We had brought him here as the only way available to inquire about his attendance. I assure you we mean him no harm. Please, there is no need for your weapons."

Severus tilted his chin up and his sneer became even more pronounced. "Surely you don't believe the two of you with your muggle guns stand a chance against the four of us?"

The man in front of Albus gave a dangerous smirk. "I don't know. You wanna give it a shot?"

The potions master opened his mouth to respond, but the elder wizard cut him off sharply. "Severus."

After another moment, the two muggles shared a glance and slowly lowered their guns. "You know, after this I don't think I'm too keen on letting my kid anywhere near your school. If this is how you give out invitations, I'm surprised anyone is." 

Albus folded his hands in front of himself and looked at the two over his spectacles. They couldn’t be allowed to interfere with the prophecy or his plans for it. "I'm sure you understand, it is of the utmost importance that Harry be in attendance this year at Hogwarts." 

The muggles tensed defensively and the taller narrowed his eyes at the old man. "And if he isn't?"

"Mr. Potter holds a prominent place in the Wizarding world as a whole. I wouldn't be very surprised if the Ministry of Magic itself took a concern over his placement and care, educational or _otherwise_."

The shorter man’s jaw was visibly clenching. "Are you threatening to take my son?"

He put on a surprised face. "Take him? No no, _I_ don't have the authority to do such a thing." He smiled once more. "Now that the _situation_ has been explained properly..." The wizard pulled out his wand, and before the muggles could react, summoned Harry's dropped letter. Reactivating the portkey, he handed it to the shorter man, who took it stiffly. "A week from today, the transportation spell on the letter will bring any who are touching it to this room at 12:00 GMT. Someone shall be here to escort Mr. Potter in order to gather the necessary materials for the coming school year."

Before anything more could be said by either muggles or wizards, the two men were gone the same way they arrived. There were exclamations of surprise from his companions, but Albus paid them no mind. These muggles were already proving to be much more troublesome than anything he had anticipated. He'd have to keep a close watch on the boy this year at Hogwarts and separate him from those two as soon as possible. 


	17. 1st Year - Diagon Alley

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

Harry started on the hard cot in his Grandpa’s panic room as the voices of his father and uncle suddenly sounded from outside the metal door.

“Dammit Cas! You couldn’t have waited a few more minutes? We didn’t even find out who those bastards were!”

“You found out what they wanted and how to find them again. Both you and Sam were becoming angered and would not have reacted well if you had remained.”

“You still -!”

“No, he’s right, Dean. You were about to snap and you know it. Besides, I didn’t like the look of that black haired guy. Like he wanted nothing, but to curse us or something.” He heard the taller Winchester sigh. “The old man was pissing me off, too, but really there was nothing the two of us could do against four of them without a proper plan.”

His grandfather opened the door and Harry followed him out. “What happened? Dad? What’d they do that made you mad?”

Both brothers visibly calmed and shared one of their silent glances that somehow held entire conversations. Harry frowned when it seemed they wouldn’t answer, but his uncle finally responded. “They didn’t do anything to us, don’t worry. The old man…” Sam hesitated and his hand clenched at the memory. “He made the suggestion that if we tried to keep you from attending Hogwarts, you would be taken from us.” Harry felt himself freeze, and a hot burst of anger filled his chest at the thought that some stranger would try to separate him from his family. “We’re not sure who he is, so we don’t know if he would be able to carry it through, but he made it so the letter that took you would reactivate in a week. He expects you to return and meet someone to get some school supplies.”

“Dumbledore.” All four men looked at him. “He said his name was Albus Dumbledore and that he was the headmaster of the school.”

“What else did they say, Harry?” His dad asked.

“Not much, actually. Just that they had been searching for me since my parents died, and they thought you were some kind of powerful creature or wizard or something that was hiding me. The others there were Minerva McGonagall, Severus Snape, and Remus Lupin. The brown haired one, Lupin, he said he was a friend of my parents. He…” The wizard frowned in thought. “He wasn’t human, though. I don’t think anyway. He… looked different. But I don’t know what he was.”

“Dumbledore…” Sam was looking off to the side and rubbing his chin in thought. “I think I’ve read that name before. Somewhere in the Men’s library.”

The eldest Winchester gave a dramatic, put upon sigh. “Great. Research.” He looked to the older hunter. “Seems our stay’s been cut short, Bobby. You gonna come with us and join the geek fest with these two in the library?”

Harry couldn’t help a slight smile at his family’s antics as his Grandpa agreed and went to pack a bag.

* * *

 

A week later, at 6:55 in the morning, the three Winchesters were sitting at the main library table in the Bunker, waiting impatiently for the time to reach 7:00. Supposedly, as long as they were touching the acceptance letter at the time, they would be taken to the Inn in London, where, given the time change, it would be 12:00. Both older hunters were taking no chances and had filled every hidden spot on their clothing with a gun each, the demon knife, silver knives and bullets, iron knives and bullets, rock salt, holy water… the works. Harry still didn’t really know where they put it all and wouldn’t be surprised to find one of them had a machete tucked away somewhere.

He looked at the letter, sitting in the middle of the table. They had finally opened and read it a few days ago. At the top it had named Albus Dumbledore the headmaster, along with a list of titles. _Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confederation of Wizards_. Sam had located Dumbledore in the library as well, but it was just a mention in the Men’s contract book that named the man as one of the leaders of the group of wizards the Men had cooperated with in WWII. It also said he had been given credit for the defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald and subsequent ending of the war. They assumed this meant the man was powerful, but not knowing the meaning of the titles, they still had no clue of his current standing in the Wizarding world, or if he could go through with his threat to their family.

Also included in the letter was a list of needed supplies. Robes, a cauldron, potion ingredients, a wand… it was almost laughable how cliché the whole thing was. Harry had expected it, of course, but confronted with it in real life was different. He tried to imagine the shops that would sell such a thing and had to hide a smile at the mental picture.

Then the alarm on Sam’s phone began going off. 6:59. Suddenly, everything seemed more serious as they each grabbed an edge of the paper. The seconds ticked by and the air was tense. Despite feeling childish, Harry couldn’t help, but reach out and grab a hold of his uncle’s hand, not wanting to be separated from them somehow during the travel.

Then Harry felt the same tugging sensation from before, just behind his navel, and the world around them began spinning in a swirl of motion and color. Moments later, his feet hit the ground hard, and like last time, he fell to the wooden floor, along with the other two.

Quickly sorting themselves out and looking around the room, they found it surprisingly empty. The three were only allowed a moment of confusion before a knock sounded on the room door. Whoever was outside waited for Sam to call a “Come in” before entering.

Harry was both surprised and glad to see it was Remus Lupin who was sent to escort them that day. He still got the feeling the man wasn’t quite human, but of the four magic users he had met, the slightly graying man seemed the most concerned over Harry’s wellbeing and not whether he was going to Hogwarts. His father and uncle eyed the man warily, likely remembering Harry’s words about his non-humanity, but didn’t make any moves against him.

Stiff introductions were exchanged and the tattered wizard led the three through the dank atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron. None of the patrons seemed to pay them any mind as they walked out a back door to a small, walled courtyard. After sending the Winchesters a small grin, Lupin pulled out his wand and tapped it along a series of bricks.

Harry sucked in a breath and couldn’t help his smile and wide eyes when the wall folded in on itself, rearranging to form an archway, beyond which was a long cobblestone street lined with the most fantastical shops and stands he had ever seen. A glance at the brothers showed them equally as wide eyed, taking in the new sights.

“Welcome,” Lupin announced in a slightly teasing voice, “to Diagon Alley.” He began to lead them down the street, going slow enough for the newcomers to look around, but obviously with a destination in mind. “First stop is going to be Gringotts, the Wizarding bank. Fair warning, it is run by goblins. Deadly clever creatures, you don’t want to be on their bad side, but they do their job well. Only someone completely out of their mind would dare to rob this bank.”

His dad gave a little shake of his head at the sight of a bunch of floating, singing flowers and turned to the wizard. “No need. We brought money with us.”

“Wizarding money is different from your muggle money.” Lupin explained patiently. “Besides, James and Lily set up a trust vault for Harry for when he attended Hogwarts, I have the key with me. But there is an area where you can exchange your bills if you want to purchase something yourselves.”

The large, white marble building was soon easily visible. As they entered, Harry noticed the two hunters eyeing the mean looking little creature at the doorway warily. Inside, Lupin walked up to a free goblin without hesitation and announced their intentions. After a moment of bickering and game of rock, paper, scissors, Sam followed Harry and Lupin to the railcars leading to his vault, while his dad went to exchange his money. The ride down was fast and dizzying and Harry swore he saw a dragon at one point. Behind him, Sam was holding on white knuckled and the younger just knew his uncle’s long hair was going to be a complete mess when they got off.

The vault itself was quite impressive, filled with piles of gold and silver and bronze. While he grabbed a few handfuls of each type of coin and stuffed it into a bag, he heard Lupin explaining to his uncle about the Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts.

The ride back to the surface was just as wild and as expected, Harry got a good laugh at the state of his uncle’s appearance at the end. The man just huffed a laugh and ran his fingers through the locks, instantly straightening them out. How did that even work? His head was a complete rat’s nest just seconds ago!

Running a hand over his own permanently wild hair in annoyance, Harry looked around and spotted his dad standing uncomfortably by the door. Walking over to him, Lupin seemed to surprise the eldest Winchester by handing over Harry’s vault key without a word which the hunter took it with a nod of thanks.

It was decided that they would split up then, to quicken the trip. So Sam and Harry were directed to Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions, while Lupin and his dad left to gather his cauldron, scales, and other basic equipment.

A small ringing sounded as they entered, though Harry didn’t see a bell, and he was waved over to a stool next to another boy that looked about his age. Sam stayed behind to look interestedly at the different types of leather and charmed cloth. Harry stepped on the stool and an overly long robe was draped over him, Madam Malkin beginning to pin it to the right length.

“Hello,” said the boy. He had a pale pointed face and blond hair that was slicked back with what Harry thought was way too much gel. “Hogwarts, too?”

“Yeah,” Harry answered.

“My father’s next door buying my books and mother’s up the street looking at wands.” The other boy had a bored, drawling voice. “Then I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me one and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” The more the boy talked, the less Harry wished he would. He could already tell the blond was probably one of those rich, spoiled kids with a snobbish, better-than-you attitude. “Have _you_ got your own broom?”

“I had a child sized one when I was a kid, but never got a real one when I out grew it.”

“Play Quidditch at all?”

“No,” said Harry, wondering how much longer measuring the robes would take.

“ _I_ do. Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree.” Harry resisted rolling his eyes. Barely. “Where are you from, anyway? I don’t recognize your accent.”

“I’m from Kansas, in America.”

The boy looked at him fully for the first time, eyes slightly wide, and Harry noticed even the two witches adjusting the robes had stopped moving and were looking at him in surprise.

“ _America_?” The boy’s tone was one of disbelief and his pointed face twisted into a look of distaste. “And you’re going to Hogwarts? Father says only criminals and low-lives stay in America.” He then sniffed and turned away as if he couldn’t stand to look at him any longer. “It’s bad enough they expect me to attend school with filthy mudbloods, now they’re letting in savages, too? Just wait until my parents hear of this.”

Harry was surprised into silence by the other boy’s unexpected reaction. Before any more could be said, Madam Malkin spoke up with, “That’s you done.”

Even she was looking at Harry differently now – not in open disgust like the boy, but more as if she had just stepped in something mildly unpleasant. He couldn’t help but notice, she approached his uncle for payment with a much warier expression and kept a good distance between them. As soon as she was given the wizard coins, she walked away without a word, leaving Sam confused by her sudden change in attitude.

They exited the shop and wandered around a bit before locating his father and Lupin about to enter a book store. Harry put the odd reactions out of his mind and happily skimmed through the bookshelves, letting his family worry about his textbooks.

His Dad ended up having to drag both other Winchesters out of the store, but not before Harry convinced him to let him get a few extra books, such as _Curses and Countercurses_ , _Jiggery Pokery and Hocus Pocus_ , _Quiddich through the Ages_ , and a couple others. Sam had his own pile. Harry noticed _Magical Theory_ , _Modern Magical History_ , and _The Philosophy of the Mundane: Why the Muggles Prefer Not to Know_. He supposed the others were similar books that his uncle meant to add to the library in the bunker.

Lupin raised his brows in surprise at the books, but said nothing of them and lead the way to the last stop – Ollivander's wand shop.

The inside of the store was a tiny, dusty space, filled with shelves upon shelves of narrow boxes. There was an odd air about the place, as if it was filled with some secret magic.

“Good afternoon,” said a soft voice, and all three Winchesters jumped, the two elders automatically reaching for some hidden weapon. An old man walked in front of them with an unnerving, knowing smile. His wide, pale eyes shinned eerily in the gloom.

“Hello.” Harry said awkwardly.

“Ah. Yes, yes. I thought I’d be seeing you soon, Harry Potter.” Harry blinked in surprise at the man knowing his birth name, and felt his dad move behind him, a protective hand laid on his shoulder. The old man, who he assumed was Ollivander, paid the hunters no mind. “You have your mother’s eyes. It seems only yesterday she was in here herself, buying her first want. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work.”

Ollivander moved closer and Harry couldn’t help but wish he would blink. Those silvery eyes were creepy.

“Your father on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it – it’s really the wand that chooses the wizard, of course.” His eyes moved up to Harry’s forehead, where the faded lightning bolt scar lay. “And that’s where…”

He moved as if to touch it, but the hunters shifted behind Harry and the man instead stepped back and began searching his desk drawers for something. “I’m sorry to say I sold the wand that did it,” he continued softly, almost as if to himself. “Thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I’d known what that wand was going out into the world to do…”

The wizard finally straightened with what looked like a measuring tape in his hands. With a tap of his wand, the thing was sent flying to Harry.

“Hold out our wand arm.”

Harry held out his right and the tape started measuring it, then continued to other areas of his body. As it did, Ollivander was flitting around the shelves, taking down boxes and talking about the wands he made.

It took quite a long time to find Harry’s wand. His dad looked like he was actually falling asleep, and Sam and Lupin were leaning against the back wall, talking. Harry was starting to get frustrated, waving around wand after wand, but Ollivander seemed to get happier the longer it took.

Finally, he handed one over with a strange look on his face. “I wonder, now – yes, why not – unusual combination – holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple.”

Harry took the wand, expecting it to be taken away soon, like the others, but when it touched his hand, he felt a strange warmth in his fingers. As he waved it through the air and stream of white and blue sparks shot out of it, causing his dad to startle awake with a yelp and Lupin to clap happily.

“Oh, bravo! Very good, very good. But how curious… curious indeed…” The old wizard took the wand and put it in a box, still muttering “Curious… curious…”

Finally, Sam gave in and asked. “What’s curious, exactly?”

Ollivander fixed his customers with a stare, before settling his gaze on Harry. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mr. Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand, gave another feather – just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother – why, its brother gave you that scar.”

Harry swallowed and looked back to his family. Both were frowning at the thought and he saw Lupin next to his uncle with a bland look on his face.

“Yes,” the wand maker continued, “thirteen and a half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things from you, Mr. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things – terrible, yes, but great.”

Harry shivered slightly, but let his father lead him out of the store with a scowl on his face, while Sam paid for the wand.

“I don’t like him.” Harry smiled slightly at his dad’s blunt words, relaxing now that they were outside.

Lupin gave a smile as well. “Don’t mind him. He’s always been eccentric, but he’s brilliant at what he does. Now, you all must be ready to get back home. I’ll show you to the Leaky Cauldron and reactivate the portkey.”


	18. 1st Year - Questions and Answers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

The walk back to the Leaky Cauldron was slightly more comfortable than when the Winchesters had first arrived. The two elder hunters were still eyeing everything around them warily, unused to such blatantly unnatural surroundings, but the air between the Americans and the wizard who escorted them was calmer now that they had talked. The Winchesters kept in mind Harry’s words of the man’s non-humanity, but during the trip he hadn’t been hostile or said a bad word about Harry’s adoption. Lupin seemed to genuinely care for Harry, unlike Dumbledore.

Dean and Sam let Harry wander through Quality Quidditch Supplies for a bit, looking at all the things from the Wizarding sport he’d read about. Harry for one was eager to try out the game, but neither of his guardians was too excited about the thought of their youngest flying through the air on a broom. His child’s broom that never lifted more than two feet off the ground was one thing. One that could go dozens of feet in the air and traveled significantly faster was another thing altogether.

Harry couldn’t help, but pause outside the door to Eeylops Owl Emporium. He’d never had a pet and he knew owls were quite common in the Wizarding world.

Lupin, noticing his hesitation, gestured to the shop. “Do you want to look around? The owls here are specially bred for wizards and witches. They’re exceptionally smart and very loyal to their owners.”

An owl on the other side of the glass caught his attention. It was snow white with black specks dotting its front, and was watching him with intelligent amber eyes. But Harry shook his head to Lupin’s question and moved on. These owls were bred with a special use in mind, to deliver mail and messages for their wizards. He couldn’t ask one to travel across the ocean to send his family letters from Hogwarts, and while at home it’s only common sense that he’d use a cell phone instead. Harry thought it’d be cruel of him to get one only for it to do nothing, but sit around all day, never sent out for its intended purpose.

The group made one last stop close to the Leaky Cauldron at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour at Lupin’s insistence that they should try some of the uncommon flavors found there. A combination of Harry and Dean’s pleading looks had Sam giving in with a grin and soon they were seated at one of the outside tables.

Harry followed Lupin’s example and got a chocolate and raspberry flavored cone, with nuts, and was greatly enjoying it. His father had chosen an apple crumble flavor. Though he declared it was nowhere near as good as a good ol’ apple pie, the hunter certainly wasn’t complaining as he made his way through it. Sam chose the relatively normal sounding strawberries and cream cone, immediately questioning Lupin on its never-melting properties and whether all Wizarding food had such charms on them.

As they finished up, Sam began watching Lupin contemplatively and eventually spoke up. “So Lupin, we’ve read about Hogwarts of course, but what can you tell us about it?”

The wizard gave a slight smile and shrugged in acquiesce. “Hogwarts is one of the three main magical schools in Europe. Many even claim it to be the best of them. Being a student from there myself, my judgment is obviously bias. I can say, however, that I found acceptance there when many others would have turned me away. And for that, I will always be grateful to the school.” The Winchesters filed that away as further proof of his not being human, but didn’t question him on it.

Lupin set aside his finished dessert and leaned back in his chair. “The curriculum is certainly good. Hogwarts covers all main branches of magic and offers additional classes in later years for those looking to specialize in a certain area. Each of the professors are masters in their study and are well known throughout the Wizarding world. The headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, is considered by many to be the greatest the school has had in centuries.”

Dean’s gaze sharpened at the mention of the man and he leaned forward. “Yeah, Dumbledore. What exactly can you tell us about him?”

The wizard obviously recognized the slight hostility in the hunter’s voice and lost his relaxed air. “Dumbledore is a great and wise man. He has been described many times as the most powerful wizard alive, since his defeat of the dark lord Grindelwald.”

“We know about that already,” Dean interrupted. “Great and wise, or not, he threatened to take my kid away if we didn’t do what he wanted. I want to know if he can go through with it.”

The tattered man looked surprised at the hunter’s words, and answered uncertainly. “You must understand, we had spent the better part of a decade searching for Harry and afraid the worst had happened to him, only to find him with two seemingly hostile men we knew nothing about. I concede that Dumbledore’s words were… spoken rashly. But I have spent the day with you three, and it is obvious that Harry is very happy with you as his family and has been raised well. I’ll tell him so when I see him next, and without the worry of Harry being mistreated, I’m sure everything can be smoothed over.”

Neither of the brothers looked satisfied by the answer.

“But if he wanted to, could he take Harry?” Sam pushed. “The Hogwarts letter listed titles that Dumbledore holds and I’m guessing they’re not for show. Just give us a straight answer – if Dumbledore decided to separate us from Harry, could he do it?”

Lupin looked distinctly uncomfortable now, and answered with a sigh. “It’s true that the headmaster holds significant positions in a few international and national government groups. He has quite a bit of political power, and his opinions are held in high regard by both the ministry and the magical population as a whole. If he said that Harry Potter was not safe in his current location and that he should be moved… enough would support him to make it happen.” The man saw the anger on the hunters’ faces and quickly tried to reassure them again. “But as I said, once he learns that Harry is –”

“No, we got it Lupin,” Dean interrupted once more. “I think we’re ready to go now.”

The wizard’s look was resigned as he nodded and led the Winchesters back out into the street and toward the inn. Returning to the room they had arrived in, Harry thanked the man and allowed Lupin to give him a hug. Sam and Dean both shook his hand in farewell, and after the portkey’s spell was renewed, the family returned to their bunker home.

* * *

 

After returning from the trip to Diagon Ally, Harry could honestly say that it had been nothing like he was expecting. Sure he had known things like Hogwarts school was held in a castle, owls were used for delivering mail, and after getting a proper look at the spelled letter, had realized it had been written on parchment instead of paper, but really it was all a bit ridiculous. The whole place had reeked of being caught in the middle ages. His school supplies consisted of a quill and ink and scrolls of parchment for crying out loud! Not even a notebook!

And that snob in the robe shop had the nerve to call _him_ a savage.

His brief time spent in the witch communities in America had been little different from the rest of the country and he had expected the magical world in Europe to be similar.

James Frampton was the only witch the Winchesters had any lasting communication with. After Harry had repeatedly expressed interest in learning more about these other magical humans, Dean and Sam had relented and contacted him. They had met up in a room located under a nice hotel that had the air of a high-class bar. Quite the opposite of the grungy, dank feeling of the Leaky Cauldron. The place had been filled with psychics, wiccans, witches, and familiars, all casually going about their business like any normal group of people. The place would have been indistinguishable from a regular human bar if not for the various small shows of magic.

The small family had drawn the attention of the locals as soon as they walked in the place, being strangers in a usually tight nit community. More than one had watched them curiously, gazes lingering on Harry, and the boy wondered if somehow they knew he was magical.

James was found easily enough in the far corner of the room, with a large black dog lying on the booth next to him, head in his lap. The Winchesters sat across from the witch and almost immediately Dean had let out a powerful sneeze, looking around suspiciously. As if on cue, a man sitting at the table next to them slinked over and looked Harry up and down.

“Well, aren’t you a powerful little thing.” The man smirked and leaned over the table, looking at Harry with unnaturally sharp eyes. He had a thin blue collar around his neck, like some familiars wore, and the youngest Winchester wondered where his witch was. “Now you have me curious. Just what are you, kitten?”

James’s familiar raised her head and gave the intruder a warning growl. He gave her a disdainful look as Sam, who was closest, put himself between the stranger and his nephew.

“Remel. These are my guests. I’d appreciate you not questioning them on matters that aren’t your concern.” James said firmly. The familiar, Remel, straightened with a huff and walked off.

The Doberman on the booth then shifted, changing into a pretty woman wearing a black dress and red collar. She smiled at Harry warmly. “No need to worry about him, kid. He’s too nosy for his own good, but he’s not bad. For a cat.”

Harry smiled back as James spoke again. “Dean, Sam. Always good to see you two. During pleasant circumstances, anyway.” The older Winchesters nodded back to him and his attention then turned to the boy in the middle. “You must be Harry then. My name is James and this is my familiar, Portia. Your father said you had questions about our communities?”

The wizard gave a somewhat shy nod. “Yes, sir.”

During the visit, James patiently answered Harry’s questions about the magic witches of his kind could perform, the communities they had built around America and the not-quite laws that guided them. Portia spoke up every now and then, but when the inquiries came to familiars, James let her take over the explanations.

“Witches can’t pick and choose which familiar they get, if they get one at all. We let our instincts guide us to the magic user best suited to us and decide if we are to bond with them or not. A familiar and its master share a deep psychic bond and once made, it cannot be undone. So we must choose our partner wisely.”

Harry was leaning forward over the table, utterly focused on the information. “Do familiars only take the forms of dogs and cats?”

Portia gave a little laugh. “No, not all. We can be born with almost any animal form, but seeing one larger than a dog is uncommon. Usually our form is what would best suit our likely masters.”

“Do you think I’ll get a familiar?” The possibility excited Harry, but Portia looked uncertain.

“I couldn’t say, Harry. A familiar’s purpose is to provide aid to our partners and help to balance their magic. I cannot say for sure how, but your magic feels different from James’s or any other witch. With such a difference, I don’t know if a familiar would be drawn to it. Certainly it won’t happen for a few more years, at least. Your magic is young and untrained, once it grows stronger, then perhaps…”

She trailed off and Harry nodded a little disappointedly.

The meeting had taken place a little over two years ago now, and no sign of a familiar had appeared yet. Harry had read in one of the books from Diagon Ally that he had already flipped through, that magic users of his kind did not have familiars. Sometimes they held a close relationship with a magically enhanced animal, but nothing to the degree of intimacy held by the American witches.

With another rush of disappointment, he firmly pushed the thought away. In a couple weeks he would be leaving to England, and he had some things to take care of before he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE READ!! HAS TO DO WITH STORY’S FUTURE!
> 
> Okay, well… kind of.
> 
> I have purposely left open the question of whether Harry can get a familiar. Pottermore states wizards don't have familiars in the traditional sense, but SPN witches do. IF (and that's a big if) Harry does get a familiar, like explained by Portia, it will be when he's older and I would like to hear your thoughts on what animal they might be. No dogs (doubt it could go to Hogwarts), cats (poor Dean would be sneezing everywhere), or owls (if I wanted an owl I would have given him Hedwig… I already miss her).
> 
> I have a poll open on my profile over at ff.net, or you can leave me your idea in a review:
> 
> Hawk/falcon (I’m fond of the Cooper’s Hawk)  
> Snake (kinda cliché, and no parseltongue)  
> Smaller bird like a parakeet/parrot  
> Lizard (lizard? :/)  
> Ferret  
> Rabbit  
> Chinchilla (bet I could have fun with these last two)
> 
> Keep in mind their animal form would have a significant influence on their personality!
> 
> Thanks for reading and I look forward to your opinions :)


	19. 1st Year - Not In Kansas Anymore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

Four days after the trip to Diagon Ally found Harry and the older Winchesters at Bobby’s for the boy’s eleventh birthday. The weekend before had been spent celebrating it at a pizza place and arcade with his friends from school, but now it was just his family and Jody Mills, who could now be found living in Bobby’s house, often as not. Castiel had come by earlier that day, but hadn’t been able to stay for long. Now, after everyone was stuffed with dinner, cake, and pie, Harry was opening his last gift.

Removing the sad wrapping job – his dad had still hadn’t learned how to do it properly – and opening the box he found nestled inside a hunting knife in a leather sheath. Looking at his dad and uncle in surprise, he lifted it and carefully removed the blade. It was a silver bowie hunting knife, like the one his dad favored, only maybe an inch or so shorter. The rosewood handle was still a little large for his hand, but he held it firmly, just the way he’d been taught to.

Sam gestured back toward the box and Harry re-sheathed the blade, realizing there was something else under the tissue the knife had been sitting on. Moving the paper, he couldn’t help, but look up again in surprise upon seeing the leather bound journal.

“Is this…”

“Well,” Sam started, “you’re going to be headed to the Wizarding world soon and you’ll probably see things no other hunter or Man of Letters has. Makes sense for you to write it all down in your hunter’s journal, doesn’t it?”

Harry grinned and couldn’t help the flying hug he sent to his uncle. Sam laughed and hugged him back. Then Harry did the same to his dad and Dean ruffled a hand through his son’s wild hair.

Pulling back, the eldest Winchester looked at the boy. “You know how to handle that knife. Keep it on you always, but don’t do anything stupid with it.”

The boy gave a cheeky smirk and squirmed out of the hold. “Aw, but that’s no fun. How am I supposed to show it off if I don’t do anything stupid with it?”

“What was that, young man?” Harry winced and sent a sheepish smile to Jody, who was looking at him with an amused, raised eyebrow, Bobby laughing beside her.

“Well, now. Isn’t this just… touching.”

Everyone in the room turned immediately to the unexpected intruder. Dean pulled out the demon knife and the other’s guns were drawn at the sight of Crowley standing nonchalantly at the doorway. Glancing pointedly at the devil’s trap on the ceiling, the demon flicked a finger, cracking the wood and breaking the circle.

“The hell are you doing here?” Bobby growled. “Get out of my house.”

The demon paid his angry tone no mind. “Missed you too, darling. Been a while, hasn’t it?” His eyes flicked to Jody. “Cheating on me while I was away, have you?  I’m devastated. Fortunately, I’m not here for you.”

Dean took a step forward, moving in front of Harry. “Crowley, you –”

“Hello squirrel. Moose. I’m not here for either of you either.” He tilted his head to the side, looking around the hunter to the wizard behind him. “I’m here for Winchester junior. After all, it’s only right to congratulate the birthday boy. And you have quite the experience ahead of you, don’t you, kid?”

Sam shifted so Harry was out of sight once more. “Why are you here?”

Crowley looked annoyed. “I know I call you moose, but are you really that thick? As I said, I’m here for the birthday boy. Look, brought a present and everything.” From a pocket in his jacket, the demon pulled out a small box wrapped in bright red paper with a shiny, black ribbon, and set it on the table. The hunters lifted their guns to it and Crowley rolled his eyes in exasperation. “It’s nothing dangerous. In fact you’ll probably thank me for it.  It’s a protection bracelet, warded and spelled by yours truly, that defends against possession, and any other type of mind manipulation. I’d bet my throne not even an angel could bypass that bit of leather to take the boy as a vessel.”

None of the humans in the room were buying it and Dean voiced what they were all thinking. “Why the hell would you want to give him something like that? What’s in it for you?”

The demon had wandered around the room slightly and was looking unimpressed at Bobby’s scotch. “I may be the King of Hell, but I’m still a businessman. I’d be stupid to pass up a chance at this kind of advertisement.”

“Advertisement?”

“The Wizarding world is one of the places my demons have had the least success in gaining deals. Having Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Was-Lost, show up to England with my protection around his wrist? Those I want the business of would recognize it, see that I’m in good with magical Britain’s savior, and just like that, my credibility with the magical community is risen.”

Sam scoffed. “And knowing that, why do you think we would let Harry wear it?”

Crowley turned and walked back to the doorway, like he was about to leave. “Trust me, the wizards who would recognize my work are ones you’d want dead anyway.” And as suddenly as the King of Hell had appeared, he was gone, box still on the table.

Soon after that, Castiel was called from heaven to look at the present. Opening it found a leather cuff about an inch and a half wide, with intricate black markings that looked to have been branded into the material. The angel carefully studied it, but couldn’t find anything that went against what the demon had told them of it. Just in case, however, Castiel had taken it with him to have another angel who was more familiar with demon spell work look over it for any oddities.

* * *

 

Harry was leaving the country tomorrow. He wasn't really sure how to feel about that. The wizard had been excited for years now about finally learning of the world his birth parents came from and learning a different brand of magic, but after the stunt pulled by Dumbledore he certainly had second thoughts about it.

Looking through his trunk, he went through his mental list of items to pack. All the things from Diagon Ally were there, along with clothes and extra books. Some money was in a side pocket with a pack of cards and other things to occupy his time on the train. His cell phone was being left behind and his new knife was going to be worn in the morning. Crowley’s cuff had been deemed safe by the angels, and so was going to be worn as well. Even with what Crowley said about “advertisement”, it might come in handy in the future. He gently added one of the two pictures he had of Lily and James along with a picture of him, his uncle, father, grandfather, and Cas from his 10th birthday party.

There was a soft tapping at his open door and he turned to see his father giving him a strained smile. “You get everything together? We’re leaving early tomorrow.”

Looking around, the boy nodded. “Yeah. Think I got it all.”

Dean shifted uncomfortably. “You know, while you’re there, Cas is only a prayer away. He’ll be able to contact us and we’ll be there in a heartbeat if you need us. If that old bastard tries anything –”

“Dad,” he interrupted, “I know. I’ll be fine.” The wizard grinned. “Quit worrying so much or Sammy’ll start calling you Mother Hen again.”

The hunter frowned. “Not a word, brat.” Harry laughed as his father turned and walked away, grumbling good-naturedly under his breath.

* * *

 

At 5:30 the next morning, all three Winchesters stood restlessly in the bunker library, Castiel in front of them and Harry’s trunk gripped in Dean’s hand. With a nod from the hunters, the angel reached out and sent the tallest Winchester ahead, before disappearing together with Dean and Harry. Blinking around, Harry saw they were in an out of the way niche at King’s Cross train station in London, England. A glance at a nearby clock showed the time at 10:30, a half hour before the Hogwarts Express was scheduled to leave.

The boy took the ticket given to him by Lupin out of his pocket. The man had told them where to go and how to enter the platform for the train to the school. All around them, streams of people passed by, hardly looking around while heading to their destination. Falling seamlessly into the flow, the small group glanced around for platforms 9 and 10.

“Platform 9 ¾. Who the hell decides to make a platform 9 ¾? If these wizards are so keen on hiding themselves from the rest of the world, why put the entrance to their secret school in a place surrounded by the one’s they’re hiding from?”

Harry’s father kept up a string of complaining inquiries the whole trip, questioning everything from the Wizarding world’s IQ as a whole to Dumbledore’s apparently dubious parentage. Harry knew the man was just uncomfortable and in a bad mood because of it, and didn’t pay the angry mutterings any mind. Sam was striding along silently beside them, not looking happy in the least, either, with Castiel trailing behind.

They arrived at the brick divider in time to witness another family run at and through the wall, to the hidden platform on the other side. Dean frowned, then determinedly walked ahead of them and straight through the wall. After a couple moments’ pause, Sam pushed gently on Harry’s back, urging him through as well, and followed right after.

Scanning around the revealed area showed a whole mess of people wearing robes and carrying trucks. Families stood around saying goodbye for the semester, owls swooped overhead with loud screeches, and cats weaved their way in between legs. Going to his dad standing not far away, Harry finally noticed the scarlet train engine sitting proudly on the tracks, steam billowing in preparation to leave.

The hunter family was silent now as they made their way towards it. Sam lifted Harry’s trunk onto one of the cars and the boy started as the train gave a warning whistle that it was only a few minutes till departure. Harry’s heartbeat picked up, nervousness filling him along with excitement, and he licked his lips as he faced his guardians once more.

He knew they were still unhappy with him leaving, but each was smiling at him. His uncle pulled him into a hug first.

“Keep up with your work and be careful, but try to have some fun, too.” Sam pulled back and ruffled his hair. “And be sure to send Cas with letters for Mother Hen every now and then. Maybe then she won’t worry so much.”

Dean frowned at his brother, looking offended. “You’re the… mother hen…” Both Harry and Sam laughed at the weak reply. Then Harry was pulled into another hug by his father. “Remember what I said,” he heard the man mutter into his hair. “Keep your eyes open and that knife on you everywhere you go.” Harry felt a quick kiss on the top of his head and was released.

“I will. Promise.” The train gave the last warning whistle and all around them, students were rushing to board. Stepping up to Castiel he gave the angel a quick hug as well. “I’ll probably see you soon, Cas.”

“I shall be listening for your prayers.”

With a last smile, Harry got on the train, dragging his trunk with him to a still empty compartment. Looking out the window just as the engine began moving, he waved to his family as they sped out of sight.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the sliding door to his compartment and a tall redheaded boy with a long nose and freckles smiled sheepishly. “Mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

Harry nodded. “No problem.”

Plopping into the other seat, the boy smiled. “I’m Ron Weasley, first year. You?”

Harry smiled back. “It’s my first year, too.” He stuck out a hand. “Harry Winchester.”

The boys talked for a couple of hours. Harry learned Ron was the second youngest of a family with seven children, so much of his stuff was hand-me-downs, and he expected to go into Gryffindor like the rest of the Weasleys. The boy was nice enough, if a bit blunt about his thoughts, and it was obvious he didn’t like the Slytherin house for some reason.

In return, Harry told him about his own family, leaving out anything about hunting and the supernatural for obvious reasons.

During their talk, Ron’s rat made a brief appearance. It was a sad looking thing, fat and graying, and it seemed to do nothing, but sleep.

“His name’s Scabbers,” the other said, poking the animal to see if he’d wake up, “and he’s useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn’t aff – I mean, I got Scabbers instead.” Ron blushed slightly, probably embarrassed by his slip up about not being able to afford a different pet.

“I’ve never had a pet. My dad’s allergic to cats, and doesn’t really like dogs.” Harry couldn’t help, but notice that the more he looked at Ron’s rat, the more something seemed off about it. He’d read that a lot of wizard pets were enhanced with magic somehow. Was that what he was seeing? “Hey, Ron. Is Scabbers magi –”

There was a soft tap at the door before it was opened. “Anything off the trolley, dears?”

It was a kind looking witch, pushing a serving cart full of magical candy and food. Ron grimaced as he pulled out a wad of squished sandwiches, claiming he was settled. Harry, however, eagerly got his money out and began looking at all the things offered, pulling Ron over to get suggestions on what he should get and what to avoid. Between the two of them, they gained a sizable pile of new sweets for Harry to try that he gladly shared with Ron.

Harry popped open the box labeled Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans, the rat out of sight and forgotten for now. He was chewing on a yellowish-white one he was pleased to discover tasted like lemonade, when the door to his and Ron’s compartment opened. A girl with bushy hair and rather large front teeth, that looked to be the same year as them, poked her head inside.

“Have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville’s lost one.”

Ron just stared at the girl silently, so Harry answered. “No, not around here. But if we do, we’ll let you know.”

The girl blinked at him and then stepped further inside with a smile. “Are you from America? I recognize your accent. I’ve been there a couple times on holiday with my family. Once to Orlando, Florida to visit the parks and the second time to Colorado to hike and ski in the mountains there. It was quite beautiful, really. We’re supposed to be going again next –”

“Hermione?” A slightly chubby, lost looking boy looked inside. “Have you found him?”

“Oh!” Hermione turned back around to look at the newcomer. “No, not yet, Neville. We’d better keep looking.”

Without another word, she ushered the boy out and closed the door behind them. A moment of silence passed in the room, the two boys blinking after the whirlwind of a girl.

“Mental, that one.”

Harry gave a slight laugh at Ron’s remark and went back to his jellybeans, not noticing the other first year turning his curious gaze on him.  Fishing out an odd green and orange swirled bean, Harry held it up. “What do you think this –?”

“Are you _really_ from America?” Ron suddenly blurted out.

The Winchester looked at the redhead in surprise and the boy’s ears turned red in embarrassment. “Yeah. I grew up in Kansas. There aren’t any magic schools in America, and I got a letter from Hogwarts, so came here.”

“Oh. Right.” Ron was still watching him curiously and a little… cautiously?

"What's the deal with me being American anyway? Everybody acts surprised by it."

"You don't know?" Harry shook his head. Ron looked slightly uncomfortable before he answered somewhat hesitantly. "Well, I guess it started back when the muggles first went to America. Wizards and witches went too, of course, and tried to set up their own towns. But something is wrong with the magic there and after a couple years, all the wards they set up around their homes started going out of control. When they broke down, the magical backlash ended up killing some muggles in weird ways. The muggles panicked and started a witch hunt."

"You mean like the Salem witch trials? They were caused by actual wizards and witches?"

"Er, sure." The redhead continued on more confidently. "Others tried setting up towns afterward, but they all ended the same way, with any long-term magic breaking down after a while. Eventually, everyone just gave up and nobody goes there anymore. Which makes it the best place for criminals and dark wizards to go hide, since no one bothers looking for them there."

"I met another boy who called the people there savages..."

Ron waved a chocolate through the air dismissively. "Well, yeah. If they can't even build and ward a proper house, how else are they going to live, other than like savages?" The boy stopped and blinked a bit, the tips of his ears going red once more. "Not - not that I'm calling _you_ a savage or anything!"

The Winchester frowned and leaned back in the train's seat. "Yeah. Sure."

Harry took a book out a few minutes later and the rest of the trip was spent in uncomfortable near silence, only broken by Ron's half-hearted attempts at an awkward conversation. 

* * *

 

Night had fallen by the time the train pulled up into Hogsmeade station. Harry and Ron had changed into the school uniform robes a while back and followed the crowd of students outside, leaving their trunks for someone else to take to the school.

A loud call of “First years! First years over here!” had them moving toward a huddle of other kids their age that stood in front of the largest man Harry had ever seen. There was no way he was completely human, but looking at him, the wizard saw a kind smile behind the wild hair and beard, and was sure the giant would be no threat in the future. Once the elder students had left to wherever they went, Hagrid, as the man named himself, waved all the first years forward. After a short hike led them to a large, black lake, all the students divided up into the boats sitting in the water.

Harry ended up with Ron once again, who still looked awkward around him, the toadless boy, Neville, and a girl he hadn’t met yet. A shout from Hagrid had all the boats moving forward as one across the water. Looking around at the grounds, Harry could just make out a forest on one side of the lake, and as they rounded a large rock, everybody collectively gasped as the magnificent castle of Hogwarts came into view. With all its towers and lighted windows in the night winking out at them, it was everything Harry pictured it to be from what he’d read about it.

The flock of boats moved into a hidden pier where Hagrid then led them toward a large set of doors. Knocking loudly, he was answered by the firm visage of McGonagall, the witch who had been with Dumbledore at his attempted kidnapping.

The group was left to wait in an antechamber off the main hall where they could hear the drone of the rest of the student body. A few minutes passed with all the children making guesses about what was going to happen and how they’d be sorted. Ron was telling another boy about how his twin brothers said it was painful and that they’d probably have to fight a troll. Hermione, who was in front of him, was muttering to herself what sounded like facts from their textbooks.

McGonagall reentered the room and everyone quieted down. “In a few moments, you will be sorted into one of four houses. The sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with your housemates, sleep in the house dormitories, and spend free time in the house common rooms.

“The four houses are Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw. Each has its own noble history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While here, your triumphs will earn your house points. Any rule breaking and you will lose points. The house at the end of the year with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope you will become a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“Now, form a line and follow me.” Turning and walking back through the doors, the first years followed obediently. As they walked down the center of the hall, all the older students watched them, talking quietly amongst themselves. Looking around, Harry noticed the ceiling of the room showed the night’s sky, just as it had been described in _Hogwarts, A History_ and candles floated throughout the room, suspended by magic. At the front of the hall sat a long table that held all the teachers, including Dumbledore.

McGonagall stopped in front of a rickety three-legged stool that held a battered old hat and the Hall grew silent, everyone watching it expectantly.

Harry and a few others around him jumped when a slit at the hat’s brim opened, and the thing began to sing. It was a song about its own history and described the four houses. Applause broke out at its finish and McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment.

“When I call your name, please come forward. The hat will be placed on your head, and you shall be sorted. Abbott, Hannah!”

One by one, the first years stepped up and were separated. Hermione Granger went to Gryffindor along with Neville Longbottom. The pale boy who had called him a savage back in Diagon Ally, Draco Malfoy, was sent to Slytherin almost as soon as the hat touched his head. Then…

“Potter, Harry!”

A collective gasp traveled through the hall, followed by a wave of whispers, and it took Harry a few moments to realize this meant him. For years he had gone by the name Winchester and it felt odd for someone to refer to him by his birth name. Many of the students seemed surprised as he stepped forward, and Ron in particular looked on with a gob smacked expression on his face.

Harry gingerly sat on the rickety looking stool and waited for the sorting hat to be placed on his head. A couple beats of silence passed after it was, and the wizard thought something had gone wrong, then he noticed a dull red glow from under his robe sleeve where Crowley’s gift rested. Before he could react, the glow stopped and a voice sounded in his head.

_“Well, well. Quite the unusual piece of jewelry there Mr. Potter-Winchester. It took me some effort to evade its protections. I doubt if my intentions had been anything other than they are, that I would have been able to at all.”_

Harry swallowed and tried not to react badly to the intrusion of his mind. _“Alright, so what now?”_

_“Now? Now I take a look at your mind and determine which of the houses is right for you.”_ A couple minutes passed with the hat _hmm_ -ing and _ahh_ -ing. _“Difficult, very difficult. You are cunning enough for Slytherin and your thirst for knowledge would rival any Ravenclaw. Your loyalty to your family is awe inspiring and matched only by your courage and determination to help protect them. But where to put you…”_

The hat blocked his sight, but from what the boy could tell, the students around him had started whispering, obviously wondering what was taking so long. _“At this point, I don’t really care where I go. Could you just pick one already?”_

_“Alright, alright… Better be-”_

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The table under the scarlet banner burst into cheers and applause. Harry even thought he heard a few chanting “We got Potter! We got Potter!” It was certainly the loudest reception for a first year yet. Harry had been told that he was known throughout the Wizarding world, but it was only now dawning on him that he was considered _famous_. The realization made him slightly uneasy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know some of you were hoping for a different house than Gryffindor. I kind of was, too, but made the decision to stick to canon in the end. If you’re interested, I’ve given my views about it below, because I really did think about it, I didn’t just choose Gryffindor for simplicities sake. If you don’t really care, feel free to skip it :)
> 
> Reasons for Hogwarts house:
> 
> Slytherin: I feel that one of the main reasons Harry almost got Slytherin in canon, was because he had great ambition, a desire to prove himself. It’s my opinion that this desire originated from the Dursleys neglecting and ignoring him for the entirety of his childhood, and entering into a new world, he wanted to prove himself to these new people, like he couldn’t with his family. Growing up with the Winchesters and obviously getting the love and attention he lacked in canon, this desire was not as strongly present. So… not Slytherin.
> 
> Ravenclaw: My Harry Winchester is clearly a lot more studious than canon. But I think the ravens aren’t only studious, but logical and analytical thinkers as well. We’ve seen time and time again that both canon Harry and the Winchesters tend to go into things thinking with their hearts and emotions rather than their brains. And my reasoning behind Harry’s thirst for knowledge in my fic is the need to feel like he’s contributing something to the family business, when he can’t physically fight on hunts. He’s seen his Grandpa Bobby and Uncle Sam do research his whole life and realizes how important it can be, that it is something he can do, and so puts his all into it. He enjoys doing it, but at the same time, he’s not really learning just for the sake of knowledge. Therefore… not Ravenclaw.
> 
> Hufflepuff: This was a hard one. In the end it was this or Gryffindor. Harry certainly is a hard worker and the only thing that could have a chance of rivaling his bravery is his loyalty to his family. The thing that decided it, though, it that Puffs also believe in justness and fairness. One downside of Harry living with the Winchesters and their lifestyle, is he has been introduced to the ugliest parts of the world from a very young age. His parents murdered in front of him when he was 18 months old, coming face to face with the evil of a demon and his grandfather (Henry) dying a year later, growing up hearing cases and reading books about innocent people dying every day by all the evils that lurk in the shadows. If there is one thing he’s learned far too early, it’s that life isn’t fair or just, that bad things happen to good people and sometimes there’s nothing that anybody can do to stop it or make it right. So unfortunately… not Hufflepuff.
> 
> Gryffindor: Bravery, daring, nerve, chivalry, and recklessness. I think we can all agree that any Winchester has this in spades. Canon Harry wasn’t put in this house for no reason – he’s a courageous, rash, self-sacrificing idiot (sound familiar? *cough*Dean*cough*). Living with the Winchesters wouldn’t have changed this in the slightest. If anything, it would just be even more present in an environment where his guardians are encouraging him to stand up and fight for what he believes is right, even if heaven and hell itself is trying to tell him differently. Where the people around him are constantly putting themselves in danger to protect those who can’t protect themselves from monsters that even aurors would be hesitant to face. And there we have it… Gryffindor it is.
> 
> I hope my reasoning made sense to you, or at least let you see it from my point of view. Hopefully not many of you are too disappointed. If you are, I’m sorry, but I’ve given you my reasons and I’m not changing it.


	20. 1st Year - Pet Peeves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

The Gryffindor house’s cheers gradually trickled to a stop as Harry seated himself at the table. McGonagall resumed calling the new first years’ names for sorting and two more students, Dean Thomas and Ron, joined Harry at the Gryffindor table. The Winchester clapped along with his new housemates and turned his attention to Dumbledore when the man stood up.

“Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.”

Harry blinked in confusion at the old man while those around him either did the same or laughed. Apparently this wasn’t a new thing. Deciding to ignore the wizard for now in favor of the large selection of food spread before him, the boy grabbed a platter of steaks and began loading his plate. For the moment, his new housemates seemed content to send glances his way instead of bothering him, so Harry took the chance to eat before dealing with the barrage of questions he could sense was coming soon.

Just as he was reaching for the salt and pepper, a transparent head chose to make an appearance by rising out of a plate of chicken.

“Hello!”

Acting on instinct, Harry thrust the salt in his hand towards the thing. The lid of the container was still firmly screwed on, so only a small amount made it out of the holes of the shaker, but it was enough to make the spirit flicker and disappear for a time. Long enough to gain the attention of those around him, who gaped in surprise.

Moments later, the form of a man appeared on the other side of the table, looking quite upset. “Well, I’ll say! That was quite rude, young man! Never have I –”

“S-sorry.” Harry hastily put down the shaker and tried to look as startled as the others. “I didn’t mean to. You surprised me. I wasn’t expecting a ghost to appear out of my food.”

The man gave him a narrow eyed look, then glided off with a huff, head wobbling dangerously on his neck.

“How did you do that?” It was an older boy with red hair and horn-rimmed glasses sitting next to him that asked, but the other students around them seemed just as interested in the answer. If he were to take a guess, he’d say this was one of Ron’s older brothers the other boy mentioned on the train. “I’ve never seen one of the ghosts just disappear like that.”

“I – I don’t know.” Harry thought quickly. It probably wasn’t a good idea to let on to his peers that his family hunted magical and supernatural beings for a living. “He scared me and I jumped. I don’t know why he disappeared like that.” The others still looked curious, so he tried to change the subject. “Who was that anyway? I read that Hogwarts had ghosts. How many are there?”

The red head luckily seemed happy enough to answer him, and the rest turned away from the explanation about Nearly Headless Nick and the other house ghosts. Harry was, however, startled to learn about the poltergeist named Peeves that apparently haunted the place. There was no mention of the apparition in Hogwarts, A History. Ghosts were one thing, poltergeists were another. While ghosts were the spirits of people and had the potential to be harmless and even friendly, poltergeists were beings with no other purpose than to cause mischief and grief to those around them.

Well, the thing wasn’t around right now, so Harry tried to put it out of his mind. The feast passed surprisingly quickly. However, the other students didn’t disappoint his expectation of questions. By the time dessert was drawing to a close, Harry was ready to stick his head in one of the cakes just to get away from the chatter being directed at him. He did notice, though, that one person who avoided talking to him the whole dinner was Ron. What was his problem? The other boy would hardly _stop_ talking on the train.

Dumbledore concluded the night with an introduction of the new Professor and a list of announcements. Harry was feeling dead tired by then and hardly paid it any attention, until the words “die a most painful death” were uttered.

“Wait, what?” The first year turned back to the red head – he’d finally learned his name was Percy – his new information go-to it seemed. “What’d he say about death?”

The older boy was frowning. “He said the charms corridor on the third floor was forbidden. For good reason it sounds like. Do try to pay more attention, Harry. These announcements are very important.”

With dinner finally finished, Percy began leading the first years to the Gryffindor common rooms. Harry probably should have memorized the path better – he just knew he was going to get lost tomorrow – but the only thing on his mind at the moment was getting to a bed.

* * *

 

The next morning was fairly uneventful. He managed to find his way to the Great Hall for breakfast with only minimal help from the surrounding paintings and proceeded to stuff himself with bacon and eggs. While the students were eating, McGonagall handed out the schedules, the other heads of houses doing the same.

As Harry walked out of the Great Hall later with some of the other first years, they all paused at the sound of outraged screams. Peeves the poltergeist zoomed out of a nearby hallway, followed shortly by a group of Hufflepuff students covered in what looked like flour. The others laughed or snickered at the sight, but the Winchester felt a chill go down his spine. It didn’t matter to him that the spirit creature was supposedly harmless, he’d heard too many stories of out of control poltergeists. Harry would have to do something about the thing or he’d never sleep well here.

The group entered the Transfiguration room, their first class of the day, and began seating themselves at the desks. But Harry wasn’t paying much attention to the seat arrangements. There was a cat sitting on the front desk. Only… it wasn’t really a cat. It just looked… off somehow. Was it magical in some way?

“Hey, Harry! What’re you doing? Spot’s free, if you want it.” The call brought Harry out of his thoughts and he realized he was the last one standing. Dean Thomas as the one talking to him and the boy gestured toward the empty chair beside him. Harry sat down with a sheepish smile and started pulling out his books.

Just as the class was scheduled to start, Harry blinked as the not-cat at the front of the classroom jumped off the desk and transformed mid-way into Professor McGonagall. He had never seen a skinwalker who shifted into a cat. No wait. That wasn’t right. His teacher was completely human, he could tell - skinwalkers weren’t. So what was she? Was it an ability that any wizard could learn? Or something that was unique to her or her family? He’d have to ask as soon as the lesson was over.

And that he did. As his fellow classmates filed out of the room, he lingered behind until he and McGonagall were the only ones left. The woman raised a stern eyebrow as he approached her.

“Yes, Mr. Potter? Did you need something?”

Harry shifted a bit nervously. Last time he had met this woman, she was standing with Dumbledore and attempting to keep him from his family. He really did want to know about the cat thing though, so he took a breath and decided to take the chance. “Actually Mrs. –uh, Professor McGonagall, I was wondering how you were able to shift into the cat at the beginning of the lesson. I’ve heard of others who could do something like it, but... I don’t think it’s quite the same.”

“I am an Animagus Potter.” At his still confused look she explained. “An Animagus is a witch or wizard who has mastered the ability to transform into a specific animal at will.”

“Oh, so is it something any witch or wizard can learn?” An ability like that might come in handy in the future.

“Not at all. It takes great concentration and discipline that not many can manage. The ability is uncommon and any who accomplish it are required to register themselves and their alternate forms to the Ministry of Magic.”

Harry’s mind raced and any nerves he felt around the witch were quickly disappearing. “How do you do it? Is it just an illusion or is the shift physical? Does it hurt when you shift? How long can you stay in the animal form? Does your -”

“Mr. Potter, that is quite enough!” McGonagall interrupted the boy, although she was impressed with his determination to learn all he could about the topic. “The subject of the Animagus transformation is highly advanced transfiguration. It will be covered in lessons in your later years here at Hogwarts. For now I suggest you be content with what you know and keep any stray thoughts of learning it yourself out of your mind,” she added with a sharp look.

Harry quickly shook his head and attempted to look as innocent as possible. “Oh, no. I don’t want to learn how to do it.” Not just yet anyway.  “I was just curious is all.”

“See that it stays that way.” Harry gave a little nod. “Good. Now this similar ability you have heard of – what is it exactly?”

The Winchester hesitated, not sure how much he should tell. Well, it wasn’t like he needed to keep the creatures he knows about a secret. Chances are these magic people already knew about them anyway. He would leave out the fact that he knew about them for the purpose of defending against them if he was ever attacked out of the conversation though.

“Actually, it’s not really an ability. There are creatures called skinwalkers that can take the form of a dog at will. They’re not human, but they used to be before they became skinwalkers and they look just like one when they’re not shifted.”

His teacher looked curious now. “How are they changed from a human to this creature?”

Oh. Maybe they didn’t know about skinwalkers… Too late now, he guessed. He’d have to be more careful about what he talked about in the future. “It’s a disease. It’s transferred through a bite, like a werewolf. Except, with practice, skinwalkers can control the change and themselves in dog form, unlike werewolves. Some of them choose not to though. Humans are naturally a part of their diet, so some hunt people to eat, but others are able to ignore that urge and live around people as a person or a dog.”

McGonagall was surprised. The boy sounded like he was reciting a school lesson he had heard. Like it was the most natural thing in the world to be talking about creatures hunting down and eating humans. Just where did he get all this information? And why would a child need to know it anyway? Perhaps he was just curious. It was a wonder he wasn’t in Ravenclaw.

“I see. Now, you better leave if you do not wish to be late to your next class.”

“Yes Professor. Thanks for answering my question.” With that, Harry gathered his bag from his desk and walked out, McGonagall watching him with a thoughtful look.

* * *

 

It had been about 32 hours – but who was counting? – since Dean had gone with his brother to ship Harry off to some school halfway across the damn world. The hunter was already feeling restless and unnerved by the change. He needed to do something. Find a hunt – hell, just go for a damn drive – it didn’t matter. He just needed to get out of there and if Sam holing himself up with his laptop and research was anything to go by, his little brother felt the same.

Abruptly standing and going through his bedroom door, he nearly ran into the angel that popped into existence.

“Jesus! C’mon Cas, really?”

“Apologies.”

Dean sighed and gave his head a little shake, all too used to these meetings. “Yeah, alright. What is it?”

“Harry has sent word.” Castiel held up a parchment envelope and the hunter quickly snatched it up. “I can’t stay. Matters in Heaven require my attendance.” Nodding absently as the angel disappeared as quickly as he’d come, Dean began making his way to the library. Reading as he walked, the hunter found Sam in his nest of books and files. He waved to get the man’s attention, but his own was soon focused solely on his son’s words when he got further down the page.

_Hey Dad, Sammy. Hogwarts is basically what we expected. I got into Gryffindor, same as my mother and father. I wonder if they’d be happy about that? Dumbledore hasn’t tried to talk to me or anything since we got here, but everyone else seems to have lost their minds over me being here. Either they’re asking me if I’m really the famous Harry Potter, the “Boy-Who-Was-Lost” (which is a completely lame name by the way) or sneering over me being American. I still don’t get what the problem about that is. Something about weird magic and criminals hiding over there. Maybe they’d have a book or something about it in Diagon Alley? Anyway, that’s not all. The paintings on the walls here don’t only move, they can talk! You can have a conversation with them like talking to the real people! It’s so weird! There’s ghosts here too. Some of them have been here for hundreds of years even, and all of them are still sane. I think it has to do with the magic around the castle. Far as I can tell, they’re pretty much harmless. I do need some things, though. They have a poltergeist named Peeves. Yeah, they named it. Everybody says he’s safe, and I don’t think he’s done anything other than prank people, but I still don’t like it. Could you send me some stuff to make a banishing spell for my dorm room? The castle is way too big for me to make him leave completely, but I don’t want him around where I sleep. Other than that, nothing has happened. I’ll send another letter with Cas soon. Love y’all._

_Harry_

_PS – Having to use quills sucks! It takes forever to write anything and I keep running out of ink in the middle of a word. I’m going to get a couple of the charmed ones next time._

After having reread the letter a couple times, Dean wordlessly handed it over to Sam, an unhappy expression hardening his features. The other hunter quickly read through it.

“Poltergeist!” Sam blurted when he reached the area. “They have a – what? A _pet_ poltergeist? In a school? Are they insane?”He ran a hand through his hair, frowning angrily. “The ghosts – sure, we’ve run into plenty of friendly ghosts, but never a friendly poltergeist. They’re very nature is inclined to chaos and violence! If it hasn’t hurt some poor kid yet, then it’s only a matter of time before it does!”

He trailed off and it was silent for a moment. Both brothers were thinking the same thing. They wanted Harry home, away from that strange place of magic and creatures that they couldn’t control or fight. Yet anyway. And that’s exactly why they had to leave him there. As much as they hated to admit it, Dumbledore was powerful and if given a reason, would try to take Harry with an entire government of magic users backing him.

A shared glance told Dean that his brother had come to the same conclusion. He gave a frustrated sigh and gestured sharply toward the bunker’s lab. “You get the shit for some hex bags together. He knows what to do with it and that’ll have to be enough for now. I’m… going out.” He needed to take that damn drive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I'm not dead... I won't give a whole bunch of excuses for the long wait - I doubt your very much interested in them. Suffice to say, crap happened that kept dragging my attention away from finishing this chapter. Not to say I haven't been working on this story! I've written some scenes, if not whole chapters, for the future. Some the distant future, but we'll get to them eventually. Because I haven't abandoned this story! I promise you! The waits may be long in between chapters, but I'm going to do my damnedest to finish this fic. All of your comments and support help more than you know, so thank you all!
> 
> Want a brief peek to what stuff I wrote since I've been gone? As a sorry? No spoilers though: Crowley, Order stuff, horcrux hunting, supernatural hunting, more Crowley (he's shown up more than I thought he would), Dumbledore stuff, and maybe an angel or two. Few other things as well...
> 
> Alright, so that wasn't much of a sorry, but I hope the chapter kinda makes up for it. It's not really what I wanted it to be. I had Snape, Quirrell, and Dumbledore scenes, but they weren't wanting to cooperate, so you got McGonagall instead. Maybe they'll behave better for the next chapter.
> 
> I've also been meaning to put this in here somewhere for a while, just as a bit of background info. It's the Wizarding world's general view on America:
> 
> They see it as a wild country filled with out of control magic that defies everything they know about it, for reasons they can't explain. It's also the favored hiding place for the dregs of magical society. Not to mention there's no proper (magical) government in the place, so creatures such as vampires, werewolves, and demons are allowed to run amok, causing havoc and murdering the poor muggles (or filthy muggles, depending on who you're asking) who can't defend themselves. With all of that, who would want to live in such a horrible, savage place?
> 
> And remember, this is the general opinion that was formed when muggles were just discovering the "New World" that was filled with strange, savage people and creatures. Unlike the muggles, the wizards haven't gotten more open-minded and their ideas about America haven't changed much in over 300 years. After all that time, the rumors are bound to only get more exaggerated and degrading toward the people and creatures there.
> 
> Thank you all again for being so patient and for reading! You really are the best!


	21. 1st Year - Friends and... Enemies?

Harry’s third morning at Hogwarts began with everyone in his dorm shooting up in their beds at the sound of a frustrated yell from outside the room’s door. Harry patted around his bed and under his pillow for his wand or knife, head foggy from sleep. Dimly, he was aware of Ron struggling with his blankets beside him and Neville tripping to the floor, the boy caught up in his bed curtains. Dean helped his classmate off the ground and the Winchester quickly moved behind Seamus, who had opened the door and was looking around confusedly. The Irish boy bent over and Harry saw him pick up an unused dungbomb.

“Was tha’ Peeves?” Ron questioned groggily.

Moments later, disgusted squeals were heard from the girls’ side of the common area, shrieking about a horrid stench and needing to get Professor McGonagall to chase the poltergeist out.

Seamus snickered beside him and pocketed the dungbomb. “Well, think it’s safe to say it was,” he said in answer to Ron. “Don’t know why he left us alone, but can you imagine the look on the girls’ faces? I bet Lavender and Parvati and going to be complaining about this all day!”

The red head mumbled something in return before slumping back down to his pillow and began snoring soon after. The other boys shared a few laughs, Neville rubbing his sore nose, and they all climbed back into their own beds for a couple more hours of shut-eye before breakfast.

Harry smiled to himself. His hex bags had worked! It was the first time he’d put any of his hunter training to use without help from his family, and it had worked! The poltergeist couldn’t get into his dorm room. He and his friends were safe, at least here where they slept. Maybe he could start setting them up further out into the common room? It would take some planning to do it without being seen by the others of his house. He kept thinking about it as he drifted back to sleep.

* * *

 

Later that day, Harry left the Great Hall and quickly darted down a hallway. Going by the past couple days, he thought he’d never get any time to himself, what with the other students constantly seeking him out or just watching him wherever he went. But somehow, he had managed to shake them all off. It was Saturday, and the Winchester planned to use what time alone he had to explore the castle and surrounding grounds. Hopefully he could find the library, too. It was mentioned in _Hogwarts, A History_ and was supposed to be huge.

Turning a corner, and looking over his shoulder for any followers, Harry almost ran straight into the leering form of the resident potions master.

“Mr. Potter,” Snape drawled, a slight sneer twisting his thin lips. “Where could you be going off to in such a hurry at this time in the morning? And without your little fan club, I see.”

“I was just looking around, Professor.” Harry shuffled to the side some, eager to get away from the man.

“In the future, I’d suggest _looking_ where you are going. It would be a tragedy if you were to be injured due to your own foolish blundering about the halls.”

Harry grit his teeth. “Sorry, Sir. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The teacher was silent for a moment longer, as if waiting for Harry to say more, before he swept past and down the hall. “See that you do, Potter.”

The little hunter glared after him. What was that guy’s problem anyway? Even back in the first potions lesson the day before, the man just seemed to have an innate hatred of him.

_“Harry Potter. Our new… celebrity.”The comment gained a few snickers from the Slytherin first years._

_“It’s Potter-Winchester. Sir.” Harry wasn’t sure why he’d said that. He hadn’t corrected any of the other Professors about his last name. Perhaps it was just the way the man sneered around his name or the fact the Snape was one of the few who had actually met his family. Snape didn’t respond to the correction either way and instead continued calling names. When finished, he moved to the front of his desk and peered down at him with narrowed eyes over his hooked nose._

_“You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don’t expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses.” Well, say what you will about the man, he at least knew what he was talking about. Plenty of times during the years, the Winchesters had come across powerful substances made by witches and other creatures that did just what Snape was describing. Even used a few ‘potions’ themselves to hunt. “I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death.” He didn’t have to be quite so dramatic about it all, though._

_“Tell me, Potter,” Any respect gained by his show of knowledge was lost immediately and Harry resisted repeating his full name again. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”_

_Harry blinked slightly. He knew what the two things were – had read about them in a potions book gotten from Diagon alley – but not what happened when added together. He noticed Hermione had her hand raised a few seats down. “I don’t know, sir.”_

_Snape’s lips curled slightly. “Clearly, fame isn’t everything.”_

_What the hell was that supposed to mean? It was an effort to not outright glare at the man, now._

_“Let’s try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”_

_Harry gave a little smirk to match Snape’s sneer. “In the stomach of a goat. Sir.”_

_The sneer slipped away and the Winchester felt a little burst of triumph at that. “What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?”_

_“Nothing since they’re the same plant. Sir.” And added, because he could, “It’s also called aconite and is a key ingredient in many potions dealing with werewolves and other shape shifters.”_

_A hush had fallen on the rest of the class as the two of them stared coldly at each other, Harry trying to look as innocent as possible._

_“Well?” Snape snapped out suddenly. “Why are you all not writing this down?” There was a rush of quills and scrolls being pulled out. “And one point shall be removed from Gryffindor for your cheek. Potter.”_

_Was it just him, or had Snape put emphasis on his incorrect name on purpose?_

The rest of the class time had gone little better than those first few minutes, and for some reason, he doubted it would improve during the rest of the year.

Despite Potions being the worst first class so far, and Transfiguration being pretty informative, the most unnerving had been Defense. Up until walking into the classroom, Harry had not seen the professor aside from across the Great Hall.

Just like in Transfiguration earlier that first day of classes, Harry had stopped dead upon entering the classroom. Quirrel had his back to the class, fiddling with papers on his desk, and everyone around him found seats. Once again, the hunter was the last to sit down and his year-mates had looking at him worriedly. Seamus was the one to motion him over this time, but Harry had ignored him and found a seat as far back in the room as possible. Unlike before, with the strange cat that turned out to be his teacher, the… thing inside Quirrel gave off a definite air of ‘I-am-evil’. And it had stared straight at him.

It wasn’t a ghost possessing his professor. The thing wasn’t demonic, so he doubted an exorcism would get rid of it. It wasn’t any kind of spirit he had seen before. After studying it and completely ignoring the class lecture, Harry decided it wasn’t controlling Quirrel at all, just hanging onto him like some kind of parasite. Surely it wasn’t possible that Quirrel was unaware of the thing’s presence, which meant that Dumbledore had to know about it as well. For as powerful as the old man claimed to be, missing something as obvious as an energy such as this surrounding one of his employees should be unthinkable.

As a precaution, though, Harry had asked Castiel to observe the professor from afar, being careful that the man or spirit-thing had not noticed him. The angel’s reassurance that the creature was weak, would probably die soon after leaving Quirrel’s body, and did not seem as if it had any ability to harm Harry or the other students, had allowed him to go on with his lessons as if nothing was abnormal.

Of course, that didn’t mean he would be spending any alone time with Quirrel and his parasite any time soon. Harry had stayed in the very back of the classroom on the second day and planned to keep doing so until the thing went away.

It was close to lunch time before Harry finally found the library. The book had said it was large, but Jesus, he hadn’t expected this! The librarian almost immediately swooped down on him as he ran his fingers down the spines of the closest book shelf and began questioning his presence. She honestly seemed surprised that he merely wanted to look at the books and after a few narrow eyed looks of suspicion and warnings about proper care for the tomes, had pointed out the different sections and given a brief tour of what all he could find in the large room.

Forgetting all about lunch, he grabbed a couple books about dragons and settled at a corner table that he would claim as his own during the following school weeks.

* * *

 

It was nearing October now, and coming to the library during break periods had become a regular part of Harry’s schedule. He’d grown to love Gryffindor tower in the short time he’d been in Hogwarts, but the common room was just too loud sometimes and he never knew when a couple of the boys he shared a dorm with would decide to stop by. Besides, this library was enough to make even the Men of Letters drool and Harry wanted to take advantage of it as much as possible and relay anything interesting to his uncle back home.

Classes had passed as normally as you could expect magic classes to – Snape continued to be a jerk, Quirrel continued to stutter, the man’s parasite continued to stare at him creepily – you know, the usual. Ron had finally seemed to have enough of moping around and came up to him in the common room one afternoon and asked straight out why Harry had lied to him about who he was on the train.

Seriously? That had been the other boy’s problem this whole time? After explaining his adoption by the Winchesters and his name change, Ron had flushed a brilliant red that clashed horribly with his hair color. He had given an awkward apology for his attitude, but continued to largely avoid Harry for a few more days, mostly from embarrassment this time, if Harry had to guess. Since then, the boy had cautiously tried to make conversation and the hunter found that Ron was usually pleasant to be around. Sure he was more interested in complaining about the class lessons and work than learning and finishing the assignments, and watching him eat was almost enough to put Harry off his own food, but Ron was happy enough to explain the odd Wizarding culture Harry now found himself in and was always up for a game of chess.

“Hi, Harry!”

The boy glanced up from his book to see a now familiar head of bushy hair sitting down in the chair across from him, then turned his attention back to the pages.

“Hey, Hermione.”

For the past few days, Hermione had seemingly deemed him a good study buddy and joined him at his table. He didn’t mind. Sometimes it was nice being able to talk through the things he’d learned with someone else who’s just learned them as well. She was just so… eager? Harry wasn’t sure how to describe the girl’s great enthusiasm about homework. Sure it was about magic, but it was still _homework_. Writing papers shouldn’t make her this excited – and he was sure it didn’t, but he hadn’t figured out what it was about these study sessions that made her so happy.

“You’ve read the next chapter for Defense, I’m sure,” Hermione started immediately. “What did you think about… Is that Latin?”

Harry gave the girl his full attention now and quickly shut the book his grandfather sent him for language practice. “Um, yeah? I was just-“

“You can read Latin?” She went on, looking quizzical. “Why would you – Oh!” Her expression brightened. “I bet a lot of spells are Latin based, aren’t they? Knowing the language must come in handy for later classes if you’re interested in spell creation, right? That’s brilliant! Perhaps I should…” She trailed off, looking thoughtful and Harry quickly spoke and changed the subject.

“You finished the Defense paper?”

“Oh, yes! I know Professor Quirrel only asked for a foot, but I just couldn’t fit everything. I hope he doesn’t mind a foot and a half. Do you think he will? Surely not.”

Harry breathed out a quiet sigh, glad that she was so easily distracted, and discreetly put the book back in his bag. Time ticked past and when Harry started growing hungry, he snapped his Charms book shut and began packing.

“Think that’s enough for tonight, don’t you? I’m starving.” He picked up his bag and stood up.

“Is it that late already?” Hermione frowned up at the window in the far wall and the darkness it showed. “Alright, I suppose we should stop.” She was still frowning slightly down at her book and Harry started getting a bit impatient.

“Well? You coming to eat or not?”

The girl blinked at him a couple times, like she didn’t know what he was asking. “What?”

Harry frowned. “Food. Eat. Yes?”

Another moment passed before a large smile glued itself to Hermione’s face, along with a happy flush across her cheeks. “Right! Food!” She quickly packed up her numerous books and scrolls, being more careless with them then he’d ever seen before. “It’s time to eat isn’t it?” She stood and gave his arm a little tug as she passed. “Let’s go then. I hope they have those cinnamon biscuits during dessert tonight.”

The Winchester caught up with the girl and glanced toward her, slightly confused by her quick changes of moods. She was smiling still, looking happier than he’d seen since the start of the year. What was she so happy about? It was just dinner. You think she’d never –

Harry almost stopped dead in the hallway at his realization. Every night, the boys from his year would gather around him at the table and other years tended to gravitate to his area sometimes as well. Most of the first year girls sat in their own group – all, but Hermione. Every time he could remember, she’d always sat a bit away from the others, usually with her nose stuck in a book and eating the food on her plate distractedly. He’d always assumed that she preferred it that way, reading in peace, but maybe it was because… Had no one really invited her to join them before? That couldn’t be it, right?

Looking again at Hermione – her smile hadn’t faded at all and she was miraculously quiet – he felt a slight, sick sense of guilt. She’d really been left alone this whole time, hadn’t she? He couldn’t believe he’d only just realized it. Harry knew what it was like to be the odd one out. He’d experienced it himself often enough, being the weird kid at school who sometimes said odd things, acted strangely, and refused to let anyone come over to his house. But he at least had a few friends that accepted his oddities.

Did Hermione?

Well, she did now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't tell y'all how much I appreciate you sticking with me through this story. I'm so thankful for all the kudos and comments! They always gave me motivation to write just a little bit more for this story, even when I thought I had run out of words and was almost ready to drop it. Honestly, I don't know if this chapter would ever have been put up without them. As long as y'all seem to want more, though, I'll try my best to get new chapters up quicker.
> 
> Thank you all again!


	22. 1st Year - Fight or Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rejoice, for I have been bitten by the writing bug and cranked out nearly three chapters today! Don't expect them to come out one after the other. I still need to add some stuff to the next two and do some editing, but know that they will come soon. At least sooner than the four months that this update took... I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Harry knocked hard on the large door of the grounds keeper's cabin, Hermione standing next to him. Hagrid opened the door and smiled upon seeing them standing there. 

"Harry! Wasn' sure you’d come by again. Come in, come in! Jus’ put on some tea."

Harry did so and scratched behind Fang's ears when the dog came bounding up to them. A couple weeks ago, the boy had been surprised during breakfast when one of the school owls had landed in front of him with a note from the giant man asking him to come down for tea that day. He'd never talked to the man before and he wasn't really one for tea, but... he was curious. Hagrid mentioned in his note that he knew Harry's parents. The only person he'd talked about his parents with before was Lupin. And Hagrid was easily the largest man he'd ever seen. Like Lupin, there was just something about him that let Harry know there was no way he was completely human. 

That first time visiting, he had been pretty apprehensive, but Hagrid had been nearly ecstatic to see him and Harry soon found himself relaxing and enjoying the man's easy presence. After a bit of talking about how Hagrid had known Lily and James Potter, Hagrid had told Harry how much he loved magical creatures and had been impressed and excited by the boy's knowledge on the subject. The fact that Hagrid showed no negative reactions to both the news of Harry’s adopted muggle family and his having grown up in America only served to make Harry like him more.

When she followed him in, Hermione eagerly introduced herself and the three sat in the oversized chairs around the room. Harry slowly sipped at the large mug of tea - he still wasn't really fond of the stuff; give him a glass of sweet, iced tea any day - and carefully avoided Hagrid's rock cakes while looking around the home.  He was about to ask what creature the long, silvery-white hairs hanging from a hook were from when a piece of the other two's conversation caught his attention. 

"Hold up. What'd you say?"

Hermione blinked, "Er, that I just turned 12?"

"Well, when did that happen?"

The girl look confused now. "A few days ago? On the 19th this month."

Harry frowned at her. "And you didn't tell me? Did you tell anyone? What kind of friend am I if I don't even tell you happy birthday?"

Hagrid gave a rumbling chuckle while Hermione flushed slightly. "I-it's not that important. You don't-"

The Winchester shook his head. "No, I do and I will."

The girl fell silent for a while after that until Hagrid managed to coax her back into the conversation by asking about their classes. 

* * *

The next morning, Harry was sitting in the Great Hall with Ron on one side, talking to Dean, and Hermione on the other, reading the book Harry had requested from Cas and given her earlier that morning. After wishing her a happy late birthday and explaining that the book was one of his favorites, the girl had let out a happy laugh and smothered him in a hug with tears in her eyes. All three of the children jumped as a large package was dropped on the plate of scrambled eggs in front of them. 

"Bloody hell." The ginger murmured, brushing bits of egg off the front of his robes. " _Bloody hell_.” He said with more feeling after getting a look at the package. Hermione shot him a dirty look for his language.

Harry ignored them both and picked up the letter on top of the delivery. 

_"DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE."_

Harry swatted Ron’s hand away from doing just that.

" _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don’t want everyone knowing you’ve got a broomstick or they’ll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o’clock for your first training session._

_Professor M. McGonagall_ "

“A broom?” Hermione asked quietly after reading the note. “That’s against school rules! Why would a teacher go against the rules like that?”

“Who cares? A broomstick, Harry! C’mon, let’s go open it!” The Weasley boy was grinning at him and Harry couldn’t help but smile back just as wide. Hermione was a great friend, but she hated flying and didn’t care for Quidditch at all. Harry had seen her earlier reading _Quidditch Through the Ages._ When he asked, she claimed it was for getting flying tips and proceeded to tell him all about it. The others at the table all looked annoyed or bored by her talking – except Neville, who hung on her every word - but Harry bore through it with an amused smile. He figured she was only trying to get better in order to have more in common with her classmates who enjoyed it. Ron on the other hand was more than happy to talk about Quidditch with him and through it, Harry had developed a tentative friendship with the other boy.

That first flying lesson a few weeks ago had been the first time Harry had been on a broom since he was three and outgrew the child’s broom that was taken from the house he had been found in. His family had always said that he loved that toy more than almost any other, and now he knew it for truth. As soon as he was up in the air, Harry had felt freer than ever before. Everyone agreed that he was a natural at it. Putting Malfoy in his place during that lesson had been great. Getting on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as the youngest seeker in a century was beyond amazing. He had immediately written home about it and his family had seemed a little hesitant about it in their letter, but still proud for him. He understood their worry, though. From what he’d read and heard, it could be a dangerous game if he wasn’t careful.

Harry and Ron left the Great Hall, but as they were heading up the stairs off the Entrance Hall, Malfoy and his two goons blocked their way. The blond Slytherin snatched the package out of his hands and felt it.

“That’s a broomstick,” he said as he threw it back. “You’ll be in for it this time, Potter. First years aren’t allowed them.”

“It’s not just any old broom, Malfoy,” Ron put in and Harry could have groaned. “It’s a Nimbus Two Thousand! What did you say you’ve got at home, Malfoy? A Comet Two Sixty?” The other boy grinned at Harry. “Comets look flashy, but they’re not in the same league as the Nimbus.”

“What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn’t afford half the handle.” Malfoy spat back. “I suppose you and your brothers have to save up, twig by twig.” The boy’s attention turned to Harry. “And how’d a savage like you manage to get its paws on one anyway?”

Before anymore could be said, Professor Flitwick came down the stairs toward them.

“Not arguing, I hope, boys?” the small man squeaked.

“Potter’s been sent a broomstick, Professor,” Malfoy said quickly.

“Yes, yes, that’s right.” The Professor smiled toward Harry. “Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?”

“A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir,” Harry said, only a touch smugly. A glance over showed a look of confused horror on the Slytherins’ faces. “And it’s really thanks to Malfoy here that I’ve got it,” he added.

The Gryffindor excused themselves from the professor and began up the stairs again. They didn’t make it too far down the next hallway when they heard hurried footsteps behind them.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were coming towards them again, a look of rage on their leader’s face. The three stopped a few feet away when they noticed they had the other boy’s attention.

“Think your funny, do you?” Malfoy sneered. Crabbe and Goyle behind him puffed themselves up, looking like they were readying themselves to jump the two Gryffindors at Malfoy’s word. Harry eyed them. Their stance was sloppy and they were horribly off balance. They were strong, but probably slow. Harry knew he’d have no problem with them and he was tired of the rich prick making jabs at him and his family every time they crossed paths.

The Winchester covered the few steps that separated them quickly and got in Malfoy’s face. “You got a problem with me, Malfoy? Why don’t you do something about, then?”

The blond took a quick step back in surprise at Harry’s sudden closeness, but glanced back over his shoulder at the other two and stood his ground.

“Alright, then. Tonight. Wizard’s duel. Wands only – no contact. But I don’t suppose a savage like you has even heard of a wizard’s duel before.”

Harry had, actually. Wizard combat was one of the first things the Winchesters had looked up in the books bought in Diagon Alley. “Ron’s my second. Who’s yours?”

Malfoy looked slightly off balance at the fact that Harry was so ready to meet his challenge. Then he sized up his two friends and replied, “Crabbe. We’ll meet you in the trophy room at midnight. It’s always unlocked.”

The hunter would much rather just punch him in the face now and get it over with, but they were in the middle of a hallway where a teacher could come by any second. So, with a sharp nod, Harry walked away with Ron following behind.

* * *

At half-past eleven, Harry and Ron quietly moved through the common room to the portrait hole. 

“I can’t believe you two!” Hermione was right on their heels and had been badgering Harry about the duel since she heard about it. “What if you get caught? What if you get hurt? You really shouldn’t be doing to this! It’s against the rules and very irresponsible!”

Ron was getting annoyed and looked her as they exited. “Shove off, Granger! Go back to bed!”

Hermione climbed out after the red head and the painting shut behind her.

“Hermione?” Harry questioned.

The girl huffed and gave him an exasperated look. “Well, I’m coming with you of course! Wouldn’t want to leave you with just _him_.”

They both ignored Ron’s indigent “What’s that supposed to mean?” and Harry couldn’t help the large grin he gave her. The corner of Hermione’s mouth twitched in a smile that she was obviously trying to hold back before she spun around and lead the way down the corridor.

The trophy room was empty when they reached it, but soon enough all three heard a low voice coming from the room next to it.

“Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner.”

“ _Filch_.” Harry whispered to the other two, who looked back at him in horror. The trio began quietly making their way out of the room and down the hallway when behind him, either Ron or Hermione tripped over one of the suits of armor lining the walls. “RUN!” Harry shouted and heard the other two following.

They took turns down corridors at random until they came to a dead end with a locked door. 

“Merlin, we’re done for!” Ron anguished, tugging at the door’s handle.

“Oh, move over,” Hermione snapped and pointed her wand at the lock. “ _Alohomora_!”

It clicked and the girl pushed the door open. They all piled in quickly and shut it behind them. Footsteps in the distance were heard coming and passing them by, and all three gave a sigh of relief.

“I think we’re alright, now,” Harry whispered.

“Ha-Harry?” Ron stuttered, pulling at his robe sleeve. “I – I – I wouldn’t say that just yet!”

Harry and Hermione turned around to see a monstrous dog that filled the entire space between floor and ceiling. It had three heads, each with a mouthful of fangs. And was staring at them. A dim part of Harry’s mind told them they must be in the forbidden third floor corridor and the words ‘die a painful death’ kept circling his thoughts. As the dog started to growl, Harry groped for the doorknob behind him and finally pushed it open. The three kids tumbled out the door and took off down the hall in a full sprint. They didn't slow till at least two floors were between them and the giant dog. 

"What the..." Ron wheezed, "bloody hell was that?!"

"Cerberus" Harry was only doing slightly better than the others at catching his breath despite his previous training. 

Hermione was leaning against the stone wall. "Did you see what it was standing on?"

Harry looked over and blinked, mouth slightly agape. "You were looking at its feet?"

The girl ignored him. "It was standing on a trap door. It must be guarding something."

"You were _looking_ at its _feet_?"

Hermione gave a huff and pushed off the wall, hands on her hips. "Well if you two were a bit more observant you would have seen it too."

"Well sorry." Ron spluttered. "I was a bit preoccupied with its heads! If you didn't notice, it had three!"

The boy gained a hard look. "If it's guarding something then obviously Dumbledore put it there with a purpose. And obviously that purpose is why we were strictly forbidden from going there in the first place! Now, I'm going to bed before either of you comes up with another great idea to get us killed! Or worse, expelled!" The girl turned on her heel and stalked off to the dorms with her nose in the air. Was she purposefully trying to act snooty? Harry honestly couldn't tell.

"God. A Cerberus. I didn't even think those could exist outside of Hell. Just wait until my..." he trailed off with a loud groan and Ron looked at him in concern.

"You alright mate?"

"My dad isn't going to be happy when he hears about this."

* * *

"Why. The. _Fuck_. Do they have a goddamn _Cerberus_ in a school! The king prick of Hell needs to keep a tighter leash on his pets! What? Does he just rent them out?" Dean’s arms swung about as he ranted to his brother in the library, one hand clutching Harry's latest letter. "Poltergeists, ghosts, spirit leeches, and now a Cerberus? What's next? Wendigos and vampires? I hate that fucking school."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know keep repeating myself, but I'm sorry for the long wait and I'm really grateful to all of you who are sticking with me and being so patient. As always, thank you for all of the comments and kudos! I love you all!


	23. 1st Year - All Hallows' Eve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings, notes, etc. found in Chapter 1

Harry gathered up his notes and books, stuffing them in his bag as all his classmates began filing out of their charms class. Glancing around when he was done, Harry found Hermione at the front of the room talking with Flitwick. The boy hesitated at the doorway and intended to wait for her, but when his friend waved him on, he left.

The rest of the first year Gryffindor boys had gone ahead and Harry managed to catch up to them as they were crossing the courtyard to the Herbology greenhouses for their next class. It was only as he began walking beside the group that he could hear their conversation. Seamus was apparently poking fun at Ron for being corrected during the lesson by Hermione. The Weasley was obviously embarrassed and frustrated, and began mocking Hermione in response, eliciting laughs from the rest of the group.

Harry frowned at them all, angry at how they were talking about the girl. “Hey, let up, will you? She was only trying to help!”

The redhead scoffed. “Trying to help? She’s a nightmare, honestly! It’s no wonder she doesn’t have any friends!”

As the boy said the last word, Hermione pushed past the group, clutching her books to her chest. The laughs from the first years stopped.

Harry rounded on Ron, getting in his space and fisting the other boy’s robes. “What the hell is your problem?” Ron was taller than Harry by a good few inches, but his face was full of surprise and a bit of fear. When he only sputtered in response, Harry let him go in disgust and went after the bushy haired girl.

He thought he heard Ron weakly mutter, “I didn’t know she was behind us,” to the others, but ignored him in favor of trying to find his friend.

There were so many places in the castle Hermione could have gone to – empty classrooms, the common room, any number of bathroom, and not to mention the numerous secret passages and rooms – that Harry figured Herbology must be over with by the time he located the restroom the girl had holed up in.

“Hermione?” Harry called quietly, and the soft sobs he could hear from the stalls stopped briefly.

“Go away, Harry.” The reply was weak and choked up. Harry ignored the words and went a bit closer, knocking on the locked door of the stall.

“C’mon, Hermione. Just ignore them. Who cares what Ron thinks? He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

“I said, go away!” The command was stronger and angry this time, so Harry backed off. He wasn’t sure what to do to comfort a crying girl, but he really didn’t want to just leave her while she was so miserable. The Winchester gave a sigh and settled on the floor in front of the door to make sure no one else came in.

A few minutes passed in silence before the sobs from the stalls started again. Harry wished he knew something to say to make the girl feel better, but he’d never had this happen before. His family wasn’t really one to cry out their feelings and comfort each other when they had a problem. Not to mention… well, Hermione was a girl. Girls were strange enough when they were happy – a crying one was even worse.

Harry wasn’t sure how long it took before the crying stopped, but it was long enough for him to start feeling really hungry. He almost jumped in surprise when Hermione started talking.

“I thought it’d be different here.”

Harry shifted around on the floor. His butt was starting to fall asleep from the hard stones. “What do you mean?”

“I was always different, you know? No one ever liked me much. I’ve never really had friends. After I got my letter, I thought it was my magic that made me different from everyone else. But now I’m here and I’m still different. I’m here and still nobody likes me. I still don’t have friends.”

“That’s not true,” Harry cut her off. “I’m your friend, aren’t I?”

“But you’re Ron’s friend, too.”

“Ron’s an idiot. I guess he’s alright to talk to sometimes, but you’re more of my friend than he is. And I don’t like it when people talk bad about my friends. Besides, it's good to be different. Normal's boring.” Hermione didn’t say anything in response, so Harry continued after a few beats of silence. “I almost punched him, you know? After he said what he did. I didn’t do it, but I could if you want me to?”

That earned him a watery laugh from the girl. “No, I don’t want you to punch him. You could get in trouble.” There was a sniffle and the sound of toilet paper being torn, probably being used in place of a tissue. “I probably look a mess. You can go to the feast. It’s already started by now. I’m going to clean up.”

Harry stood up and stretched his arms and legs. “Yeah, alright.”

He picked up his bag, but paused when Hermione said quietly, “Harry? Thank you.”

The Winchester smiled. “No problem. I’ll see you in a bit.”

* * *

 

Halloween at Hogwarts meant smiling jack-o’-lanterns floating around the corridors and Great Hall, enchanted bats circling the ceilings, and a huge feast filled with amazing food and sweets. Although this was all new and brilliant, Harry couldn’t help but miss going door to door with his Dad, Sammy, and sometimes his Grandpa, begging for candy, all of them dressed up as something silly. When Harry got a bit older, Sam would sometimes take him to the local corn maze. Dean would always refuse accompanying them, muttering about alien abductions and microwavable fairies. Harry hadn’t gotten the full story about that. Afterwards, they would go back home and he and his Dad would fight over all the good candy. With a pleading look toward Sam, Harry would quickly have help fending off Dean’s grabby hands.

There were no fun costumes here at Hogwarts and no trick or treating. Ron had looked completely baffled when Harry had suggested wearing a costume today. Apparently wizards and witches had never even heard of such a tradition. So it was a slightly disappointed and homesick Harry who sat at the Gryffindor table during dinner after talking to Hermione, listening to all the happy chatter around him and trying to have a good time.

He had made it to the Hall before the food disappeared to be replaced by desserts. Just as the cakes, candy, and cookies had appeared along the house tables, the Great Hall doors slammed open and all the students fell silent and watched as Professor Quirrell ran down the middle isle.

“Troll! In the dungeon! Troll!!” He stopped in front of the head table, looking at Dumbledore. “Thought you ought to know.” Then the man collapsed in a dead faint.

People immediately started screaming and panicking. It took Dumbledore casting a charm on himself and yelling out “SILENCE” to quiet all the students.

When all eyes were on him, the headmaster calmly continued, “Prefects, please lead all students to their dormitories. Teachers, if you will accompany me to the dungeons.”

As he was exiting the Hall, Harry immediately remembered Hermione still in the girl’s bathroom. He slowed down so all his fellow students passed him and was about to sneak away, when Ron griped his robes.

“Are you mad? Where are you going?”

“Hermione doesn’t know about the troll. I need to warn her. It’s your fault she’s not here in the first place,” he reminded at Ron’s protesting look.

Ron bit his lip and looked hesitant, then nodded and said, “Fine.” Harry turned to leave, but Ron’s hand still on his arm stopped him. “I’m coming with you. You said it yourself, this is my fault. I’m going to help.” The Winchester frowned, but didn’t bother taking the time to argue and Ron followed behind him, muttering, “Man, Percy’s going to kill me if he finds out.”

After successfully getting away unnoticed, both boys went straight to the girl’s bathroom. As they were nearing however, Harry heard the faint sound of footsteps coming towards them. Harry pulled Ron behind a statue in the hallway and covered his mouth with a hand when he looked about to say something. The redhead soon froze when Snape came into view. The professor looked to be in a rush and didn’t notice them as he went by in a billow of robes.

“Why isn’t he with the other teachers?”Harry wondered out loud.

“Search me,” Ron whispered back.

Harry quietly followed after the greasy haired man a bit. “Looks like he’s going to the third floor.” Harry took another step after him, but Ron held up a hand.

“Do you smell something?”

Harry sniffed too and sure enough, there was a foul stench coating the air, getting stronger by the second. Soon after, they heard the sound of giant footfalls and what could only be the mountain troll came into view. The boys stood perfectly still and watched as it went into a room at the end of the corridor. Neither moved till it was long out of sight and as both let out a sigh of relief, they heard a shrill scream come from where the thing disappeared.

Harry felt himself fill with dread as he realized the troll had gone into the bathroom Hermione was in. He reacted quickly and took off running toward the girl’s screams, pulling his wand from under his robes as he went. He was distantly aware that Ron was following, but kept his focus on the ugly creature before him as he skid through the door.

Hermione was attempting to hide under the sinks as the troll smashed everything in sight with his club trying to find her.

“Harry!” she shouted out as soon as she caught sight of him. This gained the troll’s attention and it turned around towards her, its club swinging in a wide arc and tearing through the toilet stalls. Pieces of wood went soaring throughout the room and Harry ducked to the side, but a piece managed to hit his arm. His wand went flying to be lost among the rubble. He heard Ron cry out and looked back to see the redhead lying on the floor, looking surprised, but thankfully unharmed.

Losing his wand didn’t deter Harry from his focus of saving Hermione. Without missing a beat, he unsheathed his hidden knife and stood straight, ready to move at a sign of the creature attacking. However, the troll’s attention was still stuck on finding Hermione, its back facing the two boys. Harry noted that its gray skin looked too thick for his knife to do much damage, so as Ron was regaining his footing, Harry grabbed a hold of the lumpy club as it swung past him and used it to land on the creature’s head. Hermione screamed once more as the club finished its swing and landed mere feet from her. Gritting his teeth and bracing himself, Harry tightened his grip on the knife and plunged it into the troll’s right eye.

The thing roared out in pain, dropping its club and scrabbling at its eye with both hands. Harry managed to keep his hold on the knife, pulling it out as he fell to the ground. The wind was knocked out of him and he had to blink a couple times to regain his vision. It was only thanks to the training with his dad that he was able to quickly roll out of the way as the troll stumbled backwards, before falling to its knees. Harry looked around and saw Hermione still under the sinks, her path to the door being blocked by the troll. Spying the dropped club, he got an idea and turned to see Ron looking in shock and fear between him and the agonized troll.

“Ron!” he yelled out. “The club!” He paused as the troll stopped howling and started looking around through its good eye with a growl, one hand still covering the mess he had made of the other.

“What?” Ron yelled back.

“The club!” he repeated, moving back as the creature focused on him. “Use it to knock this thing out!” The little hunter didn’t have time to say anything more as the troll turned its attention to him and he could only hope Ron would be able to figure out what he meant.

The troll roared and using the hand not clutched to its eye, reached out to smash him to the floor. Luckily for Harry, it was somewhat slow and he dodged out of the way in time. As the hand hit the ground, he dug his knife into the top of it. The creature roared again and pulled its hand back, the knife dragging across it. But just as Harry thought, its skin was thick and it only created a shallow cut.

“Hurry!” he yelled out to the redhead.

“Alright!” Ron answered, voice shaky, and readied his wand. “ _Wingardium Leviosa_!” They watched with a smile as the club lifted from the ground and high in the air. The troll sat up straight and shook its injured hand, sending blood droplets scattering around the room. Just as it looked ready to attack again, Ron got the club over its head and let it fall, connecting with a sick sounding _thunk_.

The troll looked confused for a moment, then began swaying and finally fell with a thud that shook the bathroom.

The three children stood frozen for a bit, Harry and Ron with their weapons still raised and Hermione sitting with her mouth open in shock.

They were broken out of their trance when footsteps were heard and Professors McGonagall, Snape, and Quirrell entered the room. At the sight of the unconscious troll McGonagall let out a gasp, hand over her mouth, and hurried over to Hermione who was just emerging from her hiding place. Quirrell let out a whimper and backed out of the room, looking like he would faint once more. Snape bent over the troll to study it. His eyes narrowed before darting to Harry and his bloody knife. Harry narrowed his eyes right back, but didn’t try to hide the knife again. Too late for that now.

“What on earth were you thinking of?” said McGonagall coldly, going from Hermione to Ron once she was satisfied the girl wasn’t injured. “You were lucky you weren’t killed. Why aren’t you in your dormitory?”

It surprised Harry when Hermione was the one to speak up. “Please, Professor McGonagall – they were looking for me.”

“Miss Granger!”

Hermione still looked shaken by the happenings, but gained more confidence as she continued her lie, “I went looking for the troll because I – I thought I could deal with it on my own – you know, because I’ve read all about them. If they hadn’t found me I’d probably be dead now. Harry – Harry jumped on it and -,” she swallowed, “and stabbed it in the eye. Then Ron knocked it out with its own club. They didn’t have time to fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived.”

“Well, in that case…” said Professor McGonagall, finally finished with checking them over, “Miss Granger, you foolish girl! How could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?”

Hermione hung her head. Harry was shocked that Hermione Granger of all people was lying through her teeth to a teacher to keep them out of trouble. He was careful to keep his face free of any disbelief though, as to not give the lie away. Ron, however was staring at her as if she had grown another head.

“I am very disappointed in you. Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for your thoughtlessness. Since you seem to be uninjured, you should head to your dormitory. Students are finishing their desserts there.”

Hermione nodded her head and left quietly.

McGonagall turned to the two boys. “Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Now, I suggest you take yourselves to the common room also.”

Before they could move, Snape cleared his throat and attention turned to him. “While giving out house points for sheer stupidity is all well and good, Minerva,” he sneered, “I am more concerned about why Potter seems to be holding such a weapon.”

Harry’s grip on the knife hilt tightened. “It was a present from my family.”

Snape’s eyebrow rose. “Giving a child such a dangerous thing? Seems quite irresponsible if you ask me. You could… hurt yourself. And we certainly wouldn’t want precious Potter getting harmed.”

“I’m perfectly capable of handling it. My dad wouldn’t have given it to me if I wasn’t.”

“Ah yes, those savage muggles who brought you in like a stray. I wouldn’t trust their judgment anymore than I would that troll’s.”

Harry grit his teeth in anger and was about to respond when McGonagall cut in sharply. “I think that’s enough, Professor Snape. I see no harm in him keeping the thing. However, Mr. Potter, I do not want to see it out of your trunk again. If you are found with it, it _will_ be taken from you.”

Harry nodded sharply, “Yes m’am.”

“Good.” She flicked her wand and the blood on his blade and hand disappeared. “Off you two go.”

After locating his wand among the rubble from the broken stalls and sinks, Harry turned on his heel and strode out the room, Ron following behind and still looking pale. Hearing footsteps, he looked over his shoulder and saw Snape striding down the opposite corridor, robes billowing as always, but Harry could see the slight limp he was trying to hide. Tucking that information away for later, he and Ron continued to their rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just over a week for this new chapter. That's not too bad, right? Has to be some kind of record for me, haha! I really hope you liked how I did the troll fight. As always, thanks to all of my readers and comments/kudos are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story I currently have posted on FanFiction.net under nearly the same username. I recently made an account here and decided, what the hell, might as well put it here, too.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!


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